V>..^^t 


GIFT  OF 


tDUC 

PSYCH. 

LrBaARY 


THE 


Elements  of  Psychology: 


A   TEXT-BOOK. 


BY 

DAVID   J.    HILL,    LL.D., 

FUKSIDENT  of    the    UNIVERSITT    op    ROCHESTER,   AND    AU-J^OR    OP   BILL\ 
RHETORICAL  SERIES. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


NEW  YORK  •••  CINCINNATI  •.•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN   BOOK   COMPANY 


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p?-. 


tDua 

LIBRARY 


PRESIDENT  HILL'S  TEXT-BOOKS. 


I. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC  AND  COMPOSITION. 

II. 

THE  SCIENCE  OF  RHETORIC. 

III. 
THE  ELEMENTS  OF  LOGIC. 


> 


.'•'^  IV. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 


copybight 

By  Sheldon  &  Company. 

1888. 

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Although  the  scientific  metlioci  has  been  only  recently 
applied  to  psychological  investigation^  it  has  produced  a 
reconstruction  of  the  sciences  relating  to  the  nature  of 
man.  It  has  not  been  found  possible,  however,  to  abandon 
the  special  method  of  self -analysis,  or  introspection,  which 
alone  furnishes  the  particular  kind  of  facts  upon  which 
Psychology  is  based, — the  phenomena  of  consciousness. 
By  a  careful  application  of  this  method  by  many  observers, 
there  has  been  accumulated  a  body  of  accepted  facts 
universally  admitted  as  verifiable.  It  is  this  consensiis 
alone  that  renders  any  science  possible.  There  was  no 
science  of  Astronomy,  of  Botany,  or  of  Geology,  until 
there  had  been  amassed  an  aggregate  of  verified  and 
accepted  facts  to  which  the  mind  could  apply  systematic 
arrangement  and  nomenclature.  While,  therefore,  the 
facts  of  Psychology  are  furnished  by  the  individual  con- 
sciousness, and  in  this  sense  are  subjective  and  personal, 
the  general  consensus  renders  them  fit  for  scientific  use 
as  verified  facts  and  not  mere  opinions. 

Although  Psychology  presents  itself  as  a  science,  like 
every  other  science,  it  has  its  unsolved  problems  and  its 
retinue  of  theories.  It  has  so  lately  emerged  from  the 
purely  speculative  stage,  that  the  theoretical  element  still 


iv  PREFACE. 

remains  conspicuous.  Tlie  future  j^rogress  of  Psychology 
will  determine  which  of  these  theories  shall  become 
dominant.  The  necessity  of  an  appeal  to  personal  con- 
sciousness both  for  the  facts  and  their  interpretation 
justifies  the  citation  of  personal  views  and  statements  to 
a  greater  extent  than  in  other  departments  of  knowledge. 

The  text-book  now  offered  to  teachers  and  students  has 
grown  uj)  in  the  author's  class-room  during  a  period  of 
nearly  ten  years,  and  has  been  gradually  adapted  to  the 
practical  needs  of  those  who  could  devote  to  the  study 
only  a  single  term  of  about  three  months.  Great  stress 
has  been  laid  upon  the  careful  definition  of  words,  a  pro- 
gressive analysis,  and  the  emphasis  of  the  central  truths 
of  the  science. 

It  is  intended  that  tJie  j^ctragraphs  jjrinted  in  the  larger 
type  should  ie  learned  for  topical  recitation  and  that 
those  printed  in  the  smaller  tyjoe  should  be  read  with 
care  without  close  reproduction  in  the  class-room. 

The  leading  paragraphs  have  been  readily  compre- 
hended by  all  the  students  who  have  ever  attempted  to 
study  them.  The  secondary  paragraj^hs  are  intended  to 
interest  the  more  active  minds  in  acquiring  a  Avider  knowl- 
edge of  the  subject  by  presenting  comments,  citations,  and 
theories  which  may  lead  to  reflection  and  reading.  These 
paragraphs  are  not  essential  to  the  continuity  of  the  text 
printed  in  the  larger  tyjoe.  One  object  in  adding  them  is, 
to  introduce  to  the  notice  of  students  the  names  of 
important  thinkers  and  writers  of  whom  they  should  have 
some  knowledge.  These  will  lead  on  to  still  others  whose 
works  are  to  be  found  only  in  foreign  languages,  to  which 
references  have  been  very  rarely  made  because  they  would 
be  practically  useless  to  the  beginner.     The  dates  of  the 


PREFACE.  V 

birth  and  death  of  the  writers  quoted  or  referred  to  have 
been  enclosed  in  parenthetical  marks  after  the  first  men- 
tion of  the  name,  except  in  the  case  of  contemporaries, 
when  only  the  date  of  the  birth  is  given.  These  dates  at 
once  answer  the  question  as  to  when  the  person  lived. 
They  may  be  learned  or  used  only  for  reference,  according 
to  the  preference  of  the  teacher.  The  book  thus  serves 
as  an  introduction  to  the  history  of  philosophy  as  well  as 
to  philosophy  itself. 

Special  pains  have  been  taken  to  apply  the  principles 
of  Psychology  to  the  practical  problems  of  Education^ 
in  the  hope  that  the  value  of  the  book  might  thus  be 
enhanced  for  those  who  contemplate  teaching  and  for  all 
who  are  interested  in  the  development  of  the  psychical 
powers. 

It  is  impossible  for  a  writer  on  a  scientific  subject  to 
specify  all  the  sources  from  which  his  knowledge  has 
been  derived,  but  every  direct  quotation  in  this  book  is 
acknowledged  by  an  explicit  reference.  An  examination 
of  these  references  will  show  that  there  are  few  works  of 
importance  in  the  English  language  bearing  upon  the 
subject  to  which  the  author  is  not  indebted. 

January  1,  1886. 


O  Nlfe  NT 


OR    ANALYSIS 


INTRODUCTION. 

PAGE 

!.    DEFINITION  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 1 

2.  THE  SPHERE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 2 

3.  SCIENCES  RELATED  TO  PSYCHOLOGY 2 

4.  THE  RELATION  OF  PSYCHOLOGY  TO  EDUCATION 3 

5.  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL   METHOD 4 

6.  THE  VALIDITY  OF  THE  METHOD 5 

7.  THE  PRIMARY  AFFIRMATIONS  OF  THE  SOUL 6 

(1.)    The  Affirmation  of  Existence. 
(2.)  The  Affirmation  of  Co-existence. 
(3.)  The  Affirmation  of  Persistence. 

8.  THE  THREE  ELEMENTAL  PHENOMENA  OF  THE  SOUL 7 

(1.)    Knowledge. 
(2.)  Feeling. 
(3.)  Volition. 

9.  THE  THREE  ELEMENTAL  POWERS  OF  THE  SOUL 8 

(1.)    Intellect. 
(2.)  Sensibility. 
(3.)  Will. 
\o.  DIVISION  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 9 

PART    l.-INTELLECT. 

I.    DEFINITION  OF  INTELLECT 11 

i.  DEFINITION  OF  KNOWLEDGE 12 


viii  ANALYSIS. 

PAGE 

3.  VARIOUS  FORMS  OF  KNOWLEDGE 13 

(1.)    Presentative  Knowledge. 

(2.)   Representative  Knowledge.  1 

(3.)   Elaborative  Knowledge. 

(4.)  Constitutive  Knowledge. 

4.  DIVISION  OF  THE  SUBJECT 13 

CHAPTER     I. 

PRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 
TWO   FORMS   OF   PRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION   I. 

SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 

y.    SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  DEFINED 14 

2.  HUME'S  DENIAL  OF  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 15 

3.  MILL  ON  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 17 

4.  SPENCER'S  DENIAL  OF  IMMEDIATE  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.  18 

5.  THE  CONTINUITY  OF  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 19 

6.  TWO  FORMS  OF  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 19 

7.  ORIGIN  OF  REFLECTIVE  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 20 

8.  NORMAL  FORMS  OF  REFLECTIVE  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.  21 

(1.)    The  Philosophical. 
(2.)  The  Ethical. 

9.  ABNORMAL  FORMS  OF  REFLECTIVE  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.    21 

(1.)   The  Precocious. 

(2.)  The   Egoistic. 

(3.)  The   Hypochondriacal. 

10.  THE  RELATION  OF  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  TO  EDUCATION.    28 

SECTION   II. 
SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

1.  SENSE-PERCEPTION   DEFINED 24 

2.  THE  TWO  ELEMENTS  IN  SENSE-PERCEPTION 25 

(1.)    Perception  Proper. 
(2.)  Sensation  Proper, 


ANALYSIS,  ix 

PAGJB 

3.  THE  CONDITIONS  OF  SENSE-PERCEPTION 20 

(1.)    The  Nervous  Organism. 
(2.)   External  Excitants. 
(3.)  Actual   Excitation. 

4.  ABNORMAL  EXCITATION 30 

5.  DEFINITION  OF  A  SENSE  AND  A  SENSE-ORGAN 32 

6.  CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  SENSES 32 

(1.)    Muscular  Sense. 
(2.)  Organic  Sense. 
(3.)  Special  Senses. 

7.  THE  SPECIAL  SENSES 33 

(1.)    Touch. 
(2.)  Smell. 
(3.)  Taste. 
(4.)   Hearing. 
(5.)  Sight. 

8.  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OBTAINED  BY  THE  SPECIAL  SENSES..     39 

(1.)    By  Touch. 
(2.)  By  Smell. 
(3.)   By  Taste. 
(4.)   By  Hearing. 
(5.)   By  Sight. 

9.  WHAT  DO  WE  PERCEIVE? 41 

10.  WHAT  IS  IT  THAT  PERCEIVES? 42 


SECTION   III. 
SENSE-INTERPRETATION. 

1.  THE  DOUBLE  CHARACTER  OF  SENSE-PERCEPTION 44 

2.  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  SENSES 44 

(1.)    The  Order  of  Development. 
(2.)  The  Mode  of  Development. 

3.  TWO  CLASSES  OF  SENSE-PERCEPTIONS 47 

4.  ACQUIRED  SENSE-PERCEPTIONS  47 

(1.)  Of  Touch. 
(2.)  Of  Smell. 
(3.)  Of  Taste.  ^  ^ 


X  ANALYSIS. 

(4.)   Of  Hearing.  page 

(5.)  Of  Sight. 

5.  THE  LOCALIZATION  OF  SENSATIONS 49 

(1.)    The  Intuitional,  or  Natlvistlc,  Theory. 
(2.)  The  Empirical,  or  Genetic,  Theory. 

6.  THE  ILLUSIONS  OF  SENSE-PFRCEPTION. . . . , 51 

(1.)    Produced  by  the  Environment. 
(2.)   Produced  by  the  Organism. 
(3.)   Produced  by  Expectation. 

7.  METHODS  OF  AVOIDING   ILLUSION 56 

8.  PERCEPTS  AND  OBJECTS 57 

9.  THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  PERCEPTS 58 

io.  CONDITIONS  OF  ORGANIZING  PERCEPTS 59 

(1.)    A  sufficient  period  of  time. 
(2.)  A  certain  Intensity  of  Impression. 
(3.)  A  certain  psychical  reaction. 
I..    CHARACTER  OF  THE  COMPLETED  PRODUCT 63 

12.  RELATIONS  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY 62 

(1.)    Monism. 
(2.)   Dualism. 

13.  SENSE-PERCEPTION  AND  EDUCATION 65 

(1.)    The  earliest  studies. 

(2.)  The  method  of  study. 

(3.)  The  Improvement  of  Sense-perception. 

CHAPTER     II. 

REPRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 
DEFINfTION    AND    DIVISION    OF   REPRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION   I. 
ASSOCIATION. 

;.   THE  RELATION  OF  IMPRESSIONS 69 

2.  THE  LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION 69 

3.  THE  PRIMARY  LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION 73 

(1.)    The  Law  of  Resemblance. 
(2.)  The  Law  of  Contiguity. 
(3.)  The  Law  of  Contrast. 


ANALYSIS.  XI 

PAGB 

4.  THE  SECONDARY  LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION 74 

(1.)    The  Law  of  Intensity. 
(2.)  The  Law  of  Repetition. 

5.  THE  LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION  RESOLVED 76 

6.  THE  PLACE  OF  ASSOCIATION  IN  REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWL- 

EDGE      79 

7.  THE  RELATION  OF  ASSOCIATION  TO  EDUCATION 80 

(1.)    Associations  formed  by  Others. 
(2,)  Associations  fornned  by  the  Learner. 

SECTION   II. 

PHANTASY. 

1.  DEFINITION  AND  NATURE  OF  PHANTASY 83 

J.   REPRESENTATIVE  IDEAS 85 

3.  THE  MODES  OF  REPRODUCING  IMAGES 87 

(1.)    Physical  Stimulation. 
(2.)  Physiological  Stimulation. 
(3.)   Psychical  Stimulation. 

4.  HALLUCINATION 91 

5.  UNCONSCIOUS  MENTAL  MODIFICATIONS 92 

6.  UNCONSCIOUS  CEREBRATION 94 

7.  DREAMS  AND  REVERIE 95 

8.  THE  OPERATION  OF  PHANTASY 96 

9.  THE  RELATION  OF  PHANTASY  TO  EDUCATION 98 

(1.)    Phantasy  as  an  Aid  to  other  Powers. 
(a.)  The  Training  of  Phantasy. 

SECTION  III. 

MEMORY. 

«.    DEFINITION  OF  MEMORY 102 

2.  PERFECT  AND  IMPERFECT  MEMORY 103 

3.  MEMORY  OF  TIME 104 

(1.)    Succession. 
(,2.)  Duration. 


xii  ANALYSIS, 

PAGE 

4.  VOLUNTARY  AND  INVOLUNTARY  MEMORY 10« 

5.  AMNESIA,  OR   LOSS  OF  MEMORY 107 

(1.)    From  wounds  or  diseases  affecting  the  brain. 
(2.)   From  intoxicants  and  anaesthetics. 
(3.)   From  excessive  weariness. 
(4.)   From  old  age. 

6.  RELATION  OF  MEMORY  TO  THE  ORGANISM 109 

7.  RELATION  OF  MEMORY  TO  OTHER  POWERS 110 

8.  RELATION  OF  MEMORY  TO  EDUCATION Ill 

(1.)    Acquisition  with  reference  to  Recognition. 
(2.)  Practice  in  Recollection. 


SECTION   IV. 
IMAGI  NATION. 

1.  DEFINITION  OF  IMAGINATION 114 

2.  THE  CREATIVE  ENERGY  OF  IMAGINATION 115 

3.  THE  CHARACTER  OF  IMAGINATIVE  ACTIVITY 118 

4.  THE  LIMITATIONS  OF   IMAGINATION 119 

5.  VARIETIES  OF  IMAGINATION ^ 120 

(1.)    Scientific  Imagination. 
(2.)  Artistic  Imagination. 
(3.)   Ethical  Imagination. 

6.  EXPECTATION 126 

7.  USES  OF  IMAGINATION 127 

8.  THE  DANGERS  OF  IMAGINATION 128 

9.  THE  CONDITIONS  OF   IMAGINATIVE  ACTIVITY 129 

(1.)    The  presence  of  Images. 
(2.)  A  decided  tendency  of  Mind. 
(3.)  A  voluntary  activity  of  Mind. 

«.   RELATION  OF  IMAGINATION  TO  EDUCATION 130 

(1.)  Imagination  In  Acquisition. 
(2.)  Imagination  in  Production. 
(3.)  The  Training  of  Imagination, 


ANALYSIS.  xiii 

CHAPTER     111. 

ELABORAT(VE    KNOWLEDGE. 
DEFINITION  AND  DIVISION  OF  ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE. 


SECTION  I, 
CONCEPTION. 

PAGE 

..    USE  OF  THE  WORD  "CONCEPTION" 185 

2.  THE  PROCESS  OF  CONCEPTION 135 

(i.)    Presentation. 
(2.)  Comparison. 
(3.)  Abstraction. 
(4.)  Generalization. 
(5.)   Denomination. 

3.  THE  COMPLETED  CONCEPT I08 

(1.)    A  Concept  is  not  a  Percept. 

(2.)  A  Concept  is  not  an  Image. 

(3.)  A  Concept  combines  similar  qualities. 

(4.)  A  Concept  is  purely  relative. 

(5.)  A  Concept  is  an  incomplete  form  of  Knowledge. 

4.  THE  REALITY  OF  CONCEPTS 141 

5.  REALISM 141 

(1.)    The  Extreme  Realists. 
(2.)  The  Moderate  Realists. 

6.  NOMINALISM 143 

7.  CONCEPTUALISM 144 

8.  RELATIONISM 145 

9.  PERFECT  AND   IMPERFECT  CONCEPTS 14(f 

.o.THE  HYPOSTASiZING  OF  ABSTRACT  IDEAS 147 

.1.  RELATION   OF  CONCEPTION  TO  EDUCATION 14? 

(1.)    Scientific  Knowledge. 
(2.)   Linguistic  Study. 
(3.)  The  Order  of  Studies. 


xiv  ANALYSIS. 

SECTION  II. 

JUDGMENT. 

PAGE 

1.  DEFINITION  OF  JUDGMENT 152 

i    RELATION  OF  JUDGMENT  TO  OTHER   PROCESSES 153. 

3.  THE  ELEMENTS  OF  A  JUDGMENT 154 

4.  CLASSIFICATION  OF  JUDGMENTS 155 

(1.)    As  to  Origin. 
(2.)  As  to  Certainty. 
(3.)  As  to  Form. 
(4.)  As. to  Quantity. 
(5.)  As  to  Quality. 
(6.)  As  to  Inclusion. 

5.  THE  CATEGORIES  OF  JUDGMENT 157 

6.  THE  RELATION  OF  JUDGMENT  TO  EDUCATION 159 

(1.)    Independence  of  Judgment  in  the  Learner. 
(2.)  The  Cultivation  of  Judgment. 

SECTION   III. 
REASONING. 

,.    DEFINITION  OF  REASONING 161 

2.  THE  ASSUMPTIONS  OF  ALL  REASONING 162 

3.  INDUCTIVE  REASONING 162 

4.  PROCESSES  SUBSIDIARY  TO  INDUCTION 163 

(1.)  Observation. 
(2.)  Experiment. 
(3.)  Hypothesis. 
(4.)  Verification. 

5.  ASSUMPTIONS  OF  INDUCTIVE  INFERENCE  164 

6.  DEDUCTIVE  REASONING 165 

7.  ORIGIN  OF  UNIVERSAL  JUDGMENTS 165 

(i.)    The  Inductive  Theory. 
(2.)  The  Hereditary  Theory. 

8.  TWO  FORMS  OF  EXPRESSING  DEDUCTION 16? 

(1.)    The  Explicit,  or  Syllogistic. 
(2.)  The  Implicit,  or  Enthymematic, 


ANALYSIS.  XV 

PAGE 

9.  SYSTEMATI2ATI0N 168 

10.  THE  RELATION  OF  REASONING  TO  EDUCATION 169 

(1.)    Disciplinary  Studies. 

(2.)  The  Instrument  of  Reasoning. 

(3.)  The  Limits  of  Reasoning. 

CHAPTER     IV. 

CONSTITUTIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 
DEFINITION  AND  DIVISION  OF  CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE. 

SECTION  L 
BEING. 

t   THE  REALITY  OF  BEING 174 

2.  SUBSTANCE  AND  ATTRIBUTE 175 

3.  TWO  KINDS  OF  BEING 176 

(1.)    Matter. 
(2.)  Spirit. 

4.  QUANTITY 179 

5.  QUALITY 179 

6.  MODALITY 179 

7.  NUMBER 179 

8.  RELATION 180 

9.  INFINITY 183 

SECTION  II. 

CAUSE. 

'.   VARIOUS  SENSES  OF  THE  WORD  "CAUSE" 185 

2.  OPINIONS  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  EFFICIENT  CAUSE 185 

(1.)    Resolution  of  Cause  into  Antecedent  and  Consequent. 

(2.)   Resolution  of  Cause  into  Subjective  Experience. 

(3.)   Resolution  of  Cause  into  a  Relation  of  Concepts. 

(4.)   Resolution  of  Cause  into  an  Impotency  of  Mind. 

(5.)   Resolution  of  the  Idea  of  Cause  Into  an  Intuition. 


xvi  ANALYSIS. 

PAGE 

3.  FINAL  CAUSE 189 

4.  THE   PRINCIPLE  OF  FINAL  CAUSE 190 

5.  DISTINCTIONS  OF  TELEOLOGICAL  TERMS 191 

(1,)    Chance. 
(2.)  Adaptation. 
(3.)   Order. 
(4.)   Correlation. 
(5.)   Convergence. 

6.  CONDITIONS  IMPLIED  IN  FINAL  CAUSE 195 

7.  THE  ULTIMATE  CAUSE 198 

SECTION   III. 

SPACE. 

1.  RELATIONS  OF  CO-EXISTING  BODIES 200 

2.  SPACE,   EXTENSION,  AND   IMMENSITY  DISTINGUISHED....  201 

3.  SPACE  A  RELATION,  NOT  A  SUBSTANCE  OR  AN  ATTRIBUTE.  202 

4.  THE  OBJECTIVITY  OF  SPACE 204 

5.  REAL  AND  IDEAL  SPACE 205 

SECTION   IV: 

TIME. 

r.    RELATIONS  OF  SUCCESSIVE  PHENOMENA 207 

2.  TIME,  DURATION,  AND  ETERNITY  DISTINGUISHED 208 

3.  TIME  A  RELATION,  NOT  A  SUBSTANCE  OR  AN  ATTRIBUTE.  208 

4.  THE  OBJECTIVITY  OF  TIME 209 

5.  REAL  AND  IDEAL  TIME 209 

6.  THE  RELATION  OF  SPACE  AND  TIME  TO  EACH  OTHER...  210 

SECTION    V. 
THE    DEVELOPMENT   OF    INTELLECT. 

1.  SUMMARY  OF  RESULTS 213 

2.  THE  STAGES  OF  KNOWING 215 

3.  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  INTELLECT 215 

4.  THE  PARALLEL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  INTELLECT  AND  BRAIN.  216 

5.  THE  INHERITANCE  OF  INTELLECT 218 


ANALYSIS.  xvij 


PART    II.— SENSIBILITY. 

PAGE 

).    DEFINITION  OF  SENSIBILITY 221 

2.  DIFFICULTIES  IN  TREATING  THE  PHENOMENA  OF  SENSI- 

BILITY    222 

(i.)    They  exist  only  under  certain  conditions. 
(2.)  They  are  exceedingly  evanescent. 
(3.)  They  readily  blend  together. 

3.  A  SCIENCE  OF  SENSIBILITY  POSSIBLE 224 

4.  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  SENSIBILITY 225 

5.  THE  QUALITY  AND  QUANTITY  OF  FEELINGS , 226 

6.  DIVISION  OF  THE  SUBJECT 226 


CHAPTER     I. 

SENSATIONS. 

CLASSIFICATION    OF   SENSATIONS. 

SECTION   I. 

SIMPLE    SENTIENCE. 
..    KINDS  OF  SIMPLE  SENTIENCE 228 

(1.)  Muscular. 
(2.)  Organic. 
(3.)   Special. 

2.  CONDITIONS  OF  SIMPLE  SENTIENCE 231 

(1.)    Internal. 
(2.)   ExternaL 

3.  CONDITIONS  OF  PLEASURABLE  SENTIENCE 232 

4.  CONDITIONS  OF  PAINFUL  SENTIENCE 233 

5.  THE  RANGE  OF  SENSATION 23o 

6.  THE  LAWS  OF  PLEASURABLE  SENSATION 23G 

(1.)    The  Law  of  Variety. 
(2.)  The  Law  of  Harmony. 


xviii  ANALYSIS, 

PAGB 

7.  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  SENSATIONS 237 

8.  RELATION  OF  SENSATION  TO  EDUCATION 238 

(i.)    Government  of  the  Child  through  his  Sensations. 
(2.)  Governnnent  of  the  Sensations  through  the  Child. 


SECTION   II. 

APPETITE. 

1.  APPETITE  DISTINGUISHED  FROM  SIMPLE  SENTIENCE....  240 

2.  NATURAL  APPETITES 241 

(1.)    Hunger. 
(2.)  Thirst. 
(3.)   Suffocation. 
(4.)   Weariness. 
(5.)   Restlessness. 
(6.)   Sexual  Passion. 

3.  ACQUIRED  APPETITES 244 

4.  INHERITED   APPETITES 245 

5.  THE  CONTROL  OF  APPETITE 246 

6.  RELATION  OF  APPETITE  TO  EDUCATION 247 

(1.)    Appetite  an   Impediment  to  Education. 
(2.)  Appetite  and  Self-control. 


CHAPTER     II. 

SENTIMENTS. 
THE  THREE   CLASSES   OF   SENTIMENTS. 

SECTION   I. 

EMOTION. 

1.  THE  NATURE  OF  EMOTION 250 

2.  THE  EXPRESSION  OF  EMOTION 251 

3.  THE  PRODUCTION  OF  EMOTION 253 

4.  KINDS  OF  EMOTION 255 


ANALYSIS.  xix 

PAGE 

5.  EGOISTIC  EMOTIONS 255 

(1.)    Emotions  of  Joy. 
(2.)   Emotions  of  Sorrow. 
(3.)   Emotions  of  Pride. 
(4.)   Emotions  of  Humility. 
(5.)   Emotions  of  Hope. 
(6.)   Emotions  of  Fear. 
(7.)    Emotions  of  Wonder. 
(8.)  Sympathetic  Emotions. 

6.  /tSTHETIC    EMOTIONS 260 

(1.)    Emotions  of  the  Comical. 
(2.)   Emotions  of  the  Beautiful. 
(3.)   Emotions  of  the  Sublime. 
(4.)   Emotions  of  the  Pathetic. 

7.  ETHICAL   EMOTIONS 268 

(1.)    Emotions  of  Approval. 
(2.)   Emotions  of  Disapproval. 

8.  RELIGIOUS  EMOTIONS 269 

(1.)    The  Emotion  of  Dependence. 
(2.)  The  Emotion  of  Adoration. 

9.  RELATIONS  OF  EMOTION  AND  KNOWLEDGE...... 271 

(1.)  Emotion  antagonizes  present  Knowledge. 

(2.)  Emotion  stimulates  us  for  future  Knowledge. 

(3.)  Emotion  affords  a  bond  between  forms  of  past  Knowledge. 

(4.)  Emotion  furnishes  a  powerful  Impulse  to  Imagination. 

(5.)  Emotion  is  the  principal  cause  of  Interest. 

(6.)  Emotion  is  a  source  of  Intellectual   Prejudice. 

10.  RELATION  OF   EMOTION  TO  EDUCATION 274 

(1.)    The  Emotive  Training  of  Children. 

(2.)  The  Emotive  Treatment  of  the  Learner. 

(3.)  The  Emotive  Influence  of  the  Environment. 

(4.)  The  Emotive  Influence  of  Instruction. 

(5.)  The  Emotive  Effect  of  Practice. 

SECTION   II. 

DESIRE. 

1.  NATURE  OF  DESIRE 280 

2.  KINDS  OF  DESIRE 281 


XX  ANALYSIS, 

PAGE 

3.  THE  PERSONAL  DESIRES 2»3 

(i.)    Desire  of  continued  Existence,  or  Self-preservation. 
(2.)   Desire  of  Pleasure,  or  Self-indulgence. 
^^3.)   Desire  of  Knowledge,  or  Curiosity. 
(4.)   Desire  of  Property,  or  Acquisitiveness. 
(5.)   Desire  of  Pov^^er,  or  Ambition. 

4.  THE  SOCIAL  DESIRES 280 

(1.)    Desire  of  Companionship,  or  Sociability. 
(2.)  Desire  of  Imitation,  or  Imltativeness. 
(3.)   Desire  of  Esteem,  or  Approbativeness. 
(4.)   Desire  of  Superiority,  or  Emulation. 

5.  DESIRE  AND  WILL 289 

6.  DESIRE  AND  EDUCATION 289 

(i.)    The  Educational  Use  of  the  Desires. 
(2.)  The  Regulation  of  the  Desires. 

SECTION   III. 

AFFECTION. 

1.  NATURE  OF  AFFECTION 293 

2.  THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  AFFECTIONS 294 

(1.)  According  to  Objects. 
(2.)  According  to  Quality. 
(3.)  According  to  Modes  of  Origin. 

3.  THE  VOLUNTARY  ELEMENT  IN  AFFECTION 295 

4.  THE  PRINCIPAL  TYPES  OF  AFFECTION 290 

(1.)    Love  and  Hate. 
(2.)   Gratitude  and  Ingratitude. 
(3.)  Trust  and  Suspicion. 
(4,)  Pity  and  Contempt. 

5.  THE  POLARITY  OF  AFFECTION 300 

6.  AFFECTION   AND    EDUCATION 301 

(1.)    Inspiration  and  Influence  of  the  Affections. 
(2.)    Direction  and  Training  of  the  Affections. 

SECTION   IV. 

THE    DEVELOPMENT   OF    SENSIBILITY. 

1.  SUMMARY  OF  RESULTS 304 

2.  THE  STAGES  OF  FEELING 305 


ANALYSIS.  XXI 

PAGE 

3.  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  SENSIBILITY 305 

4.  HABITUAL  FEELING ,.  30(5 

5.  HABITUAL  EXPRESSION 307 

6.  THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FEELINGS 308 


PART    !!!,— WILL. 

f.    DEFINITION  OF  WILL 309 

2.  THE  STUDY  OF  WILL  PSYCHOLOGICAL 310 

3.  TWO  MODES  OF  ACTION 310 

CHAPTER     r. 

INVOLUNTARY   ACTIONS. 

DIVISION  OF  THE  SUBJECT. 

SECTIO/\/   I. 
THE    MOTOR    MECHANISM. 

1.  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  MOTOR  MECHANISM 312 

2.  KINDS  OF  MOTOR  ACTIVITY 313 

3.  PHYSICAL  CONTROL  OF  THE  MOTOR   MECHANISM 315 

(t.)    Innervation. 
(2.)   Inhibition. 

4.  THE  LIMITATIONS  OF  THE  MOTOR  MECHANISM ,.  316 

5.  THE  MOTOR  MECHANISM  AND  EDUCATION 317 

SECTION   II. 

INSTINCTIVE   ACTION. 

1.    DEFINITION  OF  INSTINCTIVE  ACTION 318 

?.  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  INSTINCT , 319 

(1.)    Ignorance  of  the  end. 
(2.)  Absolute  fatality. 
(3.)  General  uniformity. 
{4.)  Priority  to  experlonce. 


xxii  ANALYSIS, 

PAGE 

3.  INSTINCT  AND  INTELLIGENCE 820 

4.  INSTINCTS  IN  MAN 321 

(1.)    Instincts  preservative  of  Self. 

(2.)   instincts  preservative  of  the  Species. 

5.  RELATION  OF  INSTINCT  TO  EDUCATION 823 

(1.)    Instinct  may  be  overruled  by  Intelligence. 
(2.)  No  natural  Instinct  requires  to  be  destroyed. 

SECTION   III. 
ACQUIRED   ACTION. 

1.  DEFINITION  OF  ACQUIRED  ACTION 325 

2.  THE  ORIGIN  OF   HABITS 326 

3.  THE  LAWS  OF   HABIT 827 

(1.)    The  Law  of  increasing  Automatism. 
(2.)  The  Law  of  destination  of  Character. 

4.  CEREBRATION 328 

5.  HYPNOTIZATION 330 

(1.)    The  Hypnotic  State. 
(2.)  The  Hypnotic  Actions. 
(3.)  The  Explanations  offered. 

6.  SOMNAMBULISM 333 

7.  LANGUAGE 334 

8.  THE  ACQUISITION  OF  LANGUAGE 336 

9.  HABIT  AND  EDUCATION 337 

CHAPTER     II. 

VOLUNTARY   ACTION. 
DIVISION    OF  THE   SUBJECT. 

SECTION   /. 
SOLICITATION. 

1.  DEFINITION  OF  SOLICITATION 339 

2.  MOTORS  AND  MOTIVES  DISTINGUISHED 340 

%.  THE  ORIGIN  OF  MOTIVES.. 342 


ANALYSIS, 


XXIU 


PAGE 

4.  THE  QUALITIES  OF  MOTIVES 343 

5.  THE  RELATION  OF  MOTIVES  TO  FEELING 344 

6.  THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  MOTIVES 344 

7.  SOLICITATION  AND   EDUCATION 345 

SECTION   IL 
DELIBERATION. 

1.  THE  FIELD  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS 347 

2.  ATTENTION 348 

3.  COMPOUND  ATTENTION 349 

4.  OBJECTS  OF  DELIBERATION 351 

(1.)    The  end. 
(2.)  The  means. 
(3.)  The  time. 

5.  THE  PLACE  OF  JUDGMENT  IN  DELIBERATION 352 

6.  SUSPENSION   OF  ACTION 353 

7.  DELIBERATION  AND  EDUCATION 354 

(1.)    The  Cultivation  of  Thoughtfulness. 

(2.)  The  relation  of  Enlightenment  and  Punishmtnt. 

SECTION  III. 
VOLITION. 

..  THE  NATURE  OF  VOLITION 355 

(1.)    Volition   Is  not  compulsion. 
(2.)  Volition   Is  not  desire. 
(3.)  Volition   Is  not  motive. 

i.  THE  FORMS  OF  VOLITION 858 

(1.)   Attention. 
(2.)  Assent. 
(3.)   Choice. 
(4.)  Execution. 

8.  LIBERTY  AND  NECESSITY 86J 

(1.)    The  Theory  of  Liberty. 
(3.)  The  Theory  of  Necessity, 


jiXlY 


ANA'LYSIS. 


4.  VOLITION  AND  EDUCATION 304 

(1.)    The  Presentation  of  Motives. 
(2.)  The  Sphere  of  Freedom. 


SECTION  IV, 

THE    DEVELOPMENT   OF  WILL 

).    SUMMARY  OF  RESULTS 366 

2.  THE  STAGES  OF  VOLITION 367 

3.  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WILL 368 

4.  HABITUAL  VOLITION 369 

5.  THE  INHERITANCE  OF  WILL 370 

6.  THE  LAW  OF  VOLUNTARY  ACTION 371 

7.  THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL 873 


ILLUSTRATIVE    FIGURES. 


PAGI3 

1.  DIAGRAM    ILLUSTRATING    THE   GENERAL  ARRANGEMENT 

OF  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM 377 

2.  A  VERTICAL   SECTION    THROUGH    THE   CAVITY   OF   THE 

SKULL 379 

3.  A  TRANSVERSE  SECTION  THROUGH  THE  SPINAL  CORD.  379 

4.  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  THE  CEREBRUM 381 

5.  HORIZONTAL    SECTION    OF  THE    CRANIUM    AND    CERE- 

BRUM  , 881 

6.  HORIZONTAL  SECTION  THROUGH  THE  CEREBRUM 383 

7.  VERTICAL  SECTION  OF  THE  BRAIN,  SHOWING  ITS  LOBES.  383 

8.  NERVE-CELLS  AND  NERVE-FIBRES ,...  385 

9.  VERTICAL  SECTION  OF  A  PORTION  OF  THE   SKIN 387 

o.   LARGER  VIEWS  OF  THE  CUTANEOUS  PAPILL/E.. 387 

11.  VERTIC  SECTIONAL  THROUGH  THE  RIGHT  NASAL  FOSSA.  389 

12.  TASTE-BUDS 389 

13.  THE    EAR,    SHOWING    EXTERNAL   AND    INTERNAL    POR- 

TiONS , 391 

14.  THE  RODS  OF  CORTI 391 

15.  EYEBALL   IN    HORIZONTAL   SECTION,  SHOWING   RETINA 

AND  NERVE 393 

16.  A  SECTION  THROUGH  THE  RETINA  FROM  ITS  INNER  TO 

ITS  OUTER  SURFACE 395 

17.  LEFT    EYEBALL,    SEEN    FROM    ABOVE,   SHOWING   OPTIC 

COMMISSURE 397 

18.  ILLUSTRATING  OPTICAL  ILLUSION   IN   PERSPECTIVE....  397 

19.  THE  MUSCLES  OF  EMOTIVE  EXPRESSION 399 

20.  THE  MUSCLES  OF  THE  MOUTH  USED   IN  EXPRESSION..  399 

21.  CUTS   SHOWING    THE   EFFECT   OF    OBLIQUE    LINES    IN 

EXPRESSION 401 

62.  THE  MOTOR  MECHANISM 401 

23.  DIAGRAM  OF  LANGUAGE  ASSOCIATIONS 403 


/ 


wr^ODUGTiFsm? 


1.  Definition  of  Psychology. 

Psychology  (from  tlie  Greek  ipvxri,  psyche,  soul,  and 
Xoyog,  logos,  discourse,  or  science)  is  the  science  of  the 
soul.  It  is  a  .  science,  not  a  philosophy ;  because  it  pos- 
.sesses  the  character  of  definite  and  positive  knowledge 
derived  from  observation,  not  that  of  theory  and  specula- 
tion. It  is  the  science  of  the  soul,  or  conscious  self,  in 
its  completeness,  being  broader  in  its  scope  than  what  is 
known  as  "  mental  science"  or  "  intellectual  philosophy." 

This  definition  merely  limits,  in  a  rude  way,  the  subject  matter 
of  our  study,  indicating  the  soul  or  conscious  self,  as  the  subject  of 
our  investigation.  The  nature  of  the  soul,  so  far  as  it  may  be  dis- 
covered, will  gradually  appear  as  we  proceed  with  our  study.  Every 
such  formal  definition  is  inadequate.  The  term  "  Psychology  "  has 
now  come  into  general  use  to  designate  this  department  of  study, 
having  superseded  the  older  and  less  precise  designations.  The  word 
"soul"  is  also  now  more  generally  employed  than  "mind,"  which 
more  strictly  denotes  the  intellectual,  or  knowing,  power  of  the  soul. 
The  adjective  "psychical"  has  also  largely  taken  the  place  of  the 
more  popular  word  ' '  mental  "  in  the  later  and  more  scientific  dis- 
cussions.^ 


2  INTRODUCTION, 

2.  The  Sphere  of  Psycholo^. 

In  the  constitution  of  man  two  systems  are  united: 

(1)  An  outer  system,  to  which  we  refer  the  sun,  moon 
and  stars,  the  earth  and  our  own  visible  bodies  ;  and 

(2)  An  inner  system,  to  which  we  refer  our  pleasures 
and  pains,  our  thoughts  and  desires,  and  the  origin  of 
many  of  our  actions.  This  inner  system  furnishes  the 
facts  of  Psychology. 

The  science,  tlierefore,  differs  from  the  physical  sciences 
in  this,  that  the  leading  facts  with  which  it  deals  lie  ojDen 
to  the  inspection  of  consciousness,  while  those  of  the 
physical  sciences  are  apprehended  through  the  organs  of 
sense.  Nature  has  thus  provided  for  all  the  best  facilitiea 
ioY  this  study,  for  its  sphere  is  the  inner  circle  of  the  con  • 
scions  self. 

We  do  not  here  raise  any  question  as  to  the  nature  cf  the  coitf- 
scious  self,  or  propose  any  metaphysical  distinctions.  Metaphysics, 
in  its  proper  sense,  is  an  inquiry  into  the  ultimate  nature  and  con- 
stitution of  being.  It  is  sometimes  also  called  Ontology,  or  the 
science  of  being.  We  limit  ourselves,  for  the  present,  to  facts  of 
observation,  and,  if  metaphysical  or  ontological  inferences  arise  in 
the  progress  of  our  study,  it  will  be  only  as  a  logical  necessity  of  the 
observed  facts. 

3.  Sciences  related  to  Psychology. 

There  are  several  sciences  which  are  closely  related  to 
Psychology,  either  because  of  deriving  their  facts  from 
the  nature  of  man,  or  because  of  their  supplying  partial 
explanations  of  psychical  phenomena.  Biology  treats  of 
the  general  phenomena  of  life.  Physiology  deals  with  the 
processes  and  functions  of  the  body,  some  of  which  are 
connected  with  the  production  of  conscious  states.  Anatomy 


INTRODUCTION,  3 

treats  of  the  form  and  structure  of  the  bodily  organs. 
Pathology  deals  with  the  conditions  of  health  and  disease, 
some  of  which  affect  consciousness.  Anthropology  is  the 
science  of  Uie  human  species,  showing  that  many  of  the 
phenomena  which  we  discover  in  ourselves  are  common  to 
our  kind. 

A  few  speculative  writers  have  endeavored  to  push  these  sciences 
into  the  sphere  of  Psychology  so  as  to  cover  its  entire  territory  and 
make  it  seem  to  be  superfluous.  Some  would  regard  it  as  a  mere 
province  of  Biology.  There  has  lately  risen  a  school  of  Physiological 
Psychoiogists,  who  would  attempt  to  explain  all  the  facts  of  con- 
scious life  by  purely  physiological  causes.  Such  efforts  have  been, 
so  far,  unsuccessful.  Others,  principally  in  Germany,  would  merge 
Psychology  into  Anthropology  by  founding  it  mainly  on  the  study 
and  comparison  of  different  races  of  men,  giving  prominence  to 
what  is  known  as  Ethnological  Psychology.  Still  others  would  treat 
Human  Psychology  as  a  mere  discussion  of  animal  sentience  and 
regard  it  as  a  branch  of  Comparative  Psychology,  ranking  man 
as  a  single  member  of  the  animal  kingdom.  The  reasons  for  regard- 
ing Psychology  as  an  independent  science  will  appear  in  our  subse- 
quent treatment. 

4.  The  Relation  of  Psychology  to  Education. 

Education  aims  to  fit  its  subject  for  the  realization  of 
his  destiny.  It  consists  of  two  processes  :  (1)  instruction, 
which  imparts  ideas  ;  and  (2)  discipline,  which  develops, 
expands,  and  regulates  the  powers.  It  is  plain,  that  the 
educator  should  know  as  much  as  possible  of  the  nature, 
powers,  processes  and  laws  of  the  soul,  for  his  success  is 
largely  dependent  upon  this  knowledge.  The  study  of 
Psychology,  therefore,  is  essential  to  a  preparation  for 
teaching. 

The  science  of  education  is  called  Pedagogics,  from  a  Greek  word 
meaning  a  conductor  of  children,   applied   to   the   attendant  who 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

accompanied  them  to  school.  Pedagogics  is,  in  reality,  little  more 
than  applied  Psychology.  Whoever  understands  the  science  of  the 
soul,  possesses  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  science  of  educa- 
tion. Experience  alone  can  furnish  the  corresponding  art.  The 
theory  of  teaching  begins  in  Psychology,  and  it  has  been  a  leading 
id€a  in  the  composition  of  this  text-book  to  render  it  serviceable  to 
those  who  contemplate  teaching  as  a  profession. 

5.  The  Psycliological  Method. 

As  Psycliologj  is  the  science  of  the  soul  itself,  the 
method  by  which  it  must  be  pursued  differs  from  that  of 
other  sciences.  The  physical  sciences  deal  with  objective, 
or  external,  facts,  which  can  be  observed  only  through  the 
senses.  Psychology  deals  only  with  subjective,  or  interior, 
facts,  and  hence  the  senses  cannot  be  employed  in  observ- 
ing them.  The  psychological  method  consists  in  the 
analysis  of  consciousness,  or  of  the  interior  knowing  self 
and  its  states.  This  method  is  called  introspective  (from 
the  Latin  Intro,  within,  and  spec&re,  to  look). 

In  so  far  as  Psychology  is  a  science  apart  from  the  sciences  that 
have  been  named  as  related  to  it,  it  must  discover  its  facts  by  intro- 
spection, or  internal  observation.  It  may,  however,  supplement  its 
own  results  by  borrowing  from  other  sources.  Its  claim  to  being 
an  independent  science  must  stand  or  fall  with  its  ability  to  vindicate 
its  power  of  adducing  facts  not  otherwise  observable.  This  seems 
easy,  for  no  method  of  external  investigation  can  discover  the  facts 
of  consciousness,  and  no  one  can  deny  that  there  are  such  facts.  It 
may  derive  aid  from  Physiology,  observation  of  the  lower  animals, 
the  outward  life  of  children,  the  phenomena  of  mental  disease,  the 
manners  and  customs  of  different  races  of  men,  and  the  study  of 
human  languages  and  institutions,  which  express  the  inner  life  of 
man.  But  not  one  of  these  interesting  data  would  have  any  intel- 
ligible meaning,  except  as  interpreted  to  our  consciousness  and  ex- 
plained in  terms  of  our  conscious  experience. 


INTRODUCTION,  5 

6.  The  Validity  of  the  Method. 

The  validity  of  the  psychological^  or  introspective, 
method  has  been  called  in  question  by  Auguste  Comte 
(1797-1857),  a  French  philosopher,  Henry  Maudsley  (1835- 
),  an  English  physiologist,  and  others  of  less  note. 
Their  main  objection  is,  that,  in  trying  to  observe  its 
present  state,  the  conscious  self  destroys  that  state  by  pro- 
ducing another,  if  it  can  even  be  admitted  that  the  soul 
can  modify  its  states  in  any  way  whatever.  These  are 
purely  speculative  difficulties.  It  is  a  simple  fact  of  con- 
sciousness that  the  soul  does  observe  its  own  states.  The 
testimony  of  consciousness  cannot  be  denied  without 
self-contradiction  ;  for,  he  who  doubts  it  either  doubts 
arbitrarily,  or  else  he  relies  upon  consciousness  for  the 
affirmation  of  his  doubt.  The  madman^s  delusion  only 
strengthens  our  faith  in  the  trustworthiness  of  conscious- 
ness, for  it  is  because  of  our  belief  in  its  veracity  in 
reporting  an  abnormal  state  that  we  pronounce  him  in- 
sane rather  than  a  willful  deceiver. 

Comte's  argument  against  introspection  is:  "In  order  to  ob- 
serve, your  intellect  must  pause  from  activity,  yet  it  is  this  very 
activity  which  you  want  to  observe.  If  you  cannot  effect  the  pause, 
you  cannot  observe;  if  you  do  effect  it,  there  is  nothing  to  observe."^ 
Henry  Calderwood  (1830-  ),  a  Scotch  writer  and  professor, 
offers  the  following  refutation  :  "  The  argument  involves  neglect  of 
vhe  following  facts :  that  intellectual  activity  implies  consciousness ; 
that  attention  to  its  own  states  is  a  possibility  of  mind ;  that  repeti- 
tion, in  consequence  of  the  same  act,  leads  to  increased  familiarity 
with  it;  that  memory  admits  of  the  recall  of  what  has  previously 
passed  through  consciousness.  There  is,  therefore,  no  necessity 
for  a  pause  in  order  to  attain  knowledge  of  personal  activity."  ^ 
iVlaudsley  accepts  Comte's  argument  and  adds:  "(a)  There  are  but 
few  individuals  who  are  capable  of  attending  to  the  succession  of 


6  introduction: 

phenomena  in  their  own  minds;  {b)  there  is  no  agreement  between 
those  who  have  acquired  the  power  of  introspection;  (c)  as  long  as 
you  cannot  effect  the  pause  necessary  for  self -contemplation,  there 
can  be  no  observation  of  the  current  of  activity;  if  the  pause  is 
effected,  there  is  nothing  to  observe."  ^  Even  if  but  a  few  can 
use  the  introspective  method,  and  they  do  not  agree,  the  point  is 
conceded.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  tho  members  of  an  ordinary  class 
can  use  it,  and  they  usually  agree  in  their  results  upon  important 
points. 

7.  The  Priinary  Affirmations  of  the  S«iil. 

The  soul  begins  the  analysis  of  itself  with  three  primary 
affirmations,  in  wliicli  all  agree^,  wliicli  are  not  derived 
from  each  otlier,  but  are  nniversall}^,  necessarily  and  im- 
mediately known  to  every  being  capable  of  such  analysis. 
These  affirmations  are  incapable  of  proof,  for  all  proof  is 
either  by  induction  or  deduction,  and  both  these  processes 
are .  impossible  without  these  affirmations.  They  are  as 
follows  : 

(1)  The  Affirmation  of  Existence,  in  which  the  soul 
affirms  to  itself  the  fact  that  something  is,  or  has  being . 
This  is  the  discrimination  between  heing  and  non-being, 
or  something  and  nofliing. 

(2)  The  Affirmation  of  Co-existence,  in  which  the  soul 
affirms  to  itself  the  fact  that  something  is  which  is  not 
self,  which  has  being  that  is  not  its  being.  This  is  the 
distinction  between  the  Ego  and  tlie  non-Ego,  or  between 
5eZ/*and  non-self. 

(3)  The  Affirmation  of  Persistence,  in  which  the  soul 
affirms  to  itself  that  some  forms  of  being  in  existence  now 
were  known  by  it  to  be  in  existence  before  now  and  are  the 
same.  This  is  the  discrimination  between  stability  and 
change,  or  permanence  and  mutability. 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

These  affirmations  of  the  soul  show  its  structural  capacity  for 
self-knowledge.  That  which  each  one  of  us  calls  "Self,"  "I,"  or 
"  Ego,'''  knows  being,  knows  itself  as  being  and  other  being  as  not 
itself,  knows  itself  as  having  been  and  as  being  that  which  was. 
Here,  again,  we  wish  to  avoid  metaphysical  or  ontological  inferences. 
Each  student  of  these  doctrines  must  decide  for  himself  whether  or 
not  he  necessarily  and  immediately  makes  these  affirmations  as  soon 
as  his  thought  is  directed  to  them.  Nothing  is  here  affirmed  as  to 
the  nature,  the  origin,  or  the  cause  of  this  self -knowing  being,  the 
soul. 

8.  The  Three  Elemental  Phenomena  of  the  Soul. 

If  we  examine  the  contents  of  consciousness,  we  find 
three  different  kinds  of  phenomena  which  are  elemental 
but  enter  into  composition  in  our  psychical  experience  : 

(1)  Knowledge  is  a  condition  of  certitude  which  the 
soul  discovers  in  itself  whenever  objects  are  presented. 
Thus,  I  take  this  book  in  my  hand  and  I  know  that  I 
have  it,  that  it  is  this  book,  and  that  it  differs  from  other 
surrounding  objects. 

(2)  Feeling  is  a  state  of  the  soul  different  from  knowl- 
edge, not  easily  described,  but  readily  discriminated. 
Thus,  I  touch  the  book  with  my  finger  and,  in  addition 
to  the  knowledge  that  I  touch  it,  there  rises  in  me  what  I 
call  ii  feeling,  distinct  from  the  knowledge. 

(3)  Volition  is  an  act  of  the  soul  different  from  both 
knowledge  and  feeling.  I  lift  the  book  from  the  table. 
It  is  my  act.  It  has  originated  in  me,  not  in  the  book  or 
in  the  table. 

These  elemental  phenomena  accompany  one  another, 
but  are  not  identical,  and  cannot  be  resolved  into  or 
derived  from  one  another. 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

9.  The  Three  Elemental  Powers  of  the  Soul. 

To  tliese  three  elemental  phenomena  of  the  soul  corre- 
spond three  powers,  or  faculties,  which  nearly  all  modern 
psychologists  recognize  as  different  and  irreducible.  They 
are  : 

(1)  Intellect,  or  the  power  of  knowing,  exercised  when 
we  are  conscious  of  a  fact  or  relation  as  an  object  of 
knowledge. 

(2)  Sensibility,  or  power  of  feeling,  exercised  when  one 
feels  pain  on  inflicting  a  wound  or  pleasure  on  hearing 
agreeable  news. 

(3)  Will,  or  power  of  self -direction,  exercised  when  one 
forms  a  purpose  of  action  and  resolves  to  perform  it. 

These  powers  are  possessed  by  the  same  being  and  are 
exercised  at  the  same  time,  so  that,  notwithstanding  its 
variety  of  capabilities,  we  must  believe  in  the  unity  of  the 
soul. 

The  word  "  faculty  "  is  derived  from  the  Latin  facuUas,  from 
facere,  to  do,  to  make,  and  signifies  a  power  or  ability.  The  Ger- 
man philosopher,  J.  F.  Herbart  (1776-1841),  denied  the  existence  of 
psychical  faculties,  but  has  found  few  followers  in  this  denial. 
Before  the  time  of  the  German  philosopher,  Immanuel  Kant  (1724- 
1804),  a  two-fold  division  of  faculties  prevailed.  Aristotle  (B.C. 
384-322)  recognized  two  faculties,  "thought"  (vov^)  and  "desire", 
(opefif).  Thomas  Reld  (1710-1796),  a  Scotch  metaphysician,  andi 
his  immediate  followers,  treated  of  the  ' '  intellectual  powers  "  and 
the  "active  powers."  In  these  schemes,  feeling  was  divided  between 
the  knowing  and  the  acting  faculties.  Since  the  Scotch  philosopher, 
Sir  William  Hamilton  (1788-1856),  who  divided  the  soul  into  (1) 
"  intellect,"  (2)  "sensibility,"  and  (3)  "will,"  and  the  phenomena 
of  consciousness  into  (1)  "cognitions,"  (2)  "feelings,  "and  (3)  "cona- 
tions, "  the  three-fold  division  has  been  almost  universal  among  those 
who  admit  separate  faculties  at  all.  Even  those  who  put  "  associa- 
tion of  ideas  "  in  the  place  of  faculties,  recognize  the  three  elemental 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

phenomena,  knowledge,  feeling  and  volition.  Those  who  make 
much  of  evolution  in  explaining  the  phenomena  of  consciousness,  as 
the  Scotch  psychologist,  Alexander  Bain  (1818-  ),  and  the  Eng- 
lish philosopher,  Herbert  Spencer  (1820-  ),  attempt  to  derive 
knowledge  and  volition  by  development  from  feeling. 

The  idea  of  the  soul's  unity  is  thus  expressed  by  Hermann  Ulrici 
(1806-1884),  a  German  philosopher:  "To  the  individual  mutable 
moments  of  experience  are  opposed  a  continuity  and  steadfastness  of 
self-consciousness,  and  by  the  side  of  the  multifarious,  variously 
shifting  contents  there  comes  into  play  at  every  moment  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  unity  and  identity  of  the  Ego  ;  and  this  conscious- 
ness, though  it  may  be  dim  and  undefined,  attends  every  act  of  our 
intellectual  life.  The  Ego  which  now  apprehends  itself  as  sentient 
or  percipient,  now  putting  forth  effort,  willing,  etc.,  knows  itself  at 
the  same  time  as  one  aiid  the  same,  the  abiding  self.  .  .  .  We 
implicitly  contrast  ourself  as  unity  with  the  mutation  and  manifold- 
ness  of  our  psychical  life."  ^ 


10.  Division  of  Psychology. 

In  a  systematic  study  of  the  phenomena  and  faculties 
of  the  soul^  without  forgetting  the  natural  unity  that 
combines  these,  we  must  follow  the  example  of  the 
anatomists  and  study  the  different  elements  separately. 
Adopting  the  generally  accepted  division  of  the  faculties 
of  the  soul,  we  shall  now  treat  of 

I,  Intellect, 
II,  Sensibility, 
III.   Will, 

References  :  (1)  For  the  discussion  of  these  and  other  terms,  see 
Fleming's  Vocabulary  of  Philosophy,  under  each  word.  (2)  The 
Positive  Philosophy  of  Auguste  Comte  (Martineau's  Translation), 
I.,  p.  11.  (8)  Calderwood's  Handbook  of  3Ioral  Philosophy,  p.  5. 
(4)  Maudsley's  The  Physiology  of  llvnd  (American  Edition),  pp.  16, 
17.    (5)  Fleming's  Vocabulary,  p.  876. 


10  PSYCHOLOGY. 


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PSYCFIOLOOY. 


PART    l.-INTELLECT. 


1.  Definition  of  Intellect. 

Intellect  is  the  faculty  of  knowing.  The  word  is  derived 
from  the  Latin  inter,  between,  and  legere,  to  gather,  and 
signifies  the  power  of  discrimination,  or  discernment  of 
resemblances  and  differences,  which  the  soul  makes  in  its 
experiences.  Knowledge  is  gathered  in  the  transition 
from  one  experience  to  another  in  which  resemblances  or 
differences  appear.  An  acnte  Intellect  discerns  these 
sharply,  a  dull  Intellect  either  imperfectly  or  not  at  all. 

Bain  has  named  as  the  three  fundamental  attributes  of  Intel- 
lect, (1)  Discrimination,  or  consciousness  of  difference,  (2)  Con- 
sciousness of  Agreement,  and  (3)  Retentiveness,  or  power  of 
retaining  impressions.^  James  Sully  (1842-  ),  an  English  psy- 
chologist, rejects  Bain's  co-ordination  of  Retentiveness  with  Dis- 
crimination, on  the  ground  that  Retentiveness  is  rather  a  condition 
than  a  form  of  knowing.  He  supplies  a  name  for  Bain's  second 
function  of  Intellect,  Assimilation.  According  to  Sully's  analysis, 
Intellect  has  two  functions  :  (1)  Discrimination,  the  knowing  of 
differences  ;  and  (2)  Assimilation,  the  knowing  of  resemblances.  ^ 

As  an  example  of  intellectual  action,  suppose  a  person  endowed 
with  no  organ  of  sense  but  an  eye.  Suppose  the  eye  to  be  filled  with 
blue  light.     The  person  would  have  a  sensation  of  blue.     Now  sup- 


12  PSYCHOLOGY. 

pose  the  blue  light  to  be  suddenly  removed  and  a  red  light  substi- 
tuted. The  person  v/ould  have  a  sensation  of  red  light.  In  the 
transition  from  the  blue  to  the  red,  a  knowledge  of  difference  would 
be  gathered  and  also  a  knowledge  of  resemblance,  the  two  sensations 
belonging  to  the  same  order,  sensations  of  color.  Unusual  power  of 
discrimination  is  known  as  "sharpness"  of  Intellect ;  unusual  power 
of  assimilation,  as  "breadth"  of  Intellect, 


2.  Definition  of  Knowledge. 

Knowledge  is  tliat  condition  of  certitude  in  the  soul 
that  arises  when  realities  or  relations  are  consciously  ap- 
prehended. It  is  the  correlative  of  being.  When  perfect, 
it  is  identified  with  truth,  which  is  the  correspondence  be- 
tween consciousness  and  reality.  When  the  conditions  of 
knowledge  seem  to  the  Intellect  to  be  fulfilled,  the  soul 
accepts  the  corresponding  object  of  knowledge  as  really 
existing. 

We  must  distinguish  knowledge  from  feeling,  which  is  merely  a 
sentient  condition  ;  from  volition,  which  is  a  personal  determina- 
tion ;  from  doubt,  which  is  the  soul's  hesitation  with  regard  to  a 
proposition  ;  and  from  belief,  which  is  the  soul's  assent  to  a  proposi- 
tion without  positive  knowledge. 

3.  Various  Forms  of  Knowledge. 

Our  different  forms  of  knowledge  are  most  conveniently 
classified  according  to  the  ways  in  which  they  are  acquired. 

(1)  Some  knowledge  is  presented  immediately  to  the 
soul  when  it  attends  to  what  is  within  or  about  it,  as  the 
soul's  knowledge  of  its  own  states  and  the  simplest 
perceptions  of  the  senses.  This  is  called  Presentative 
Knowledge. 

(2)  Such  knowledge,  at  a  later  time,  is  brought  to  con- 


INTELLECT.  13 

sciousness  again,  either  in  the  old  or  in  new  relations, 
having  in  some  way  been  reproduced  within  us.  This  is 
called  Representative  Knowledge. 

(3)  Still  other  knowledge  is  given  us  neither  by  pres- 
entation nor  by  representation,  but  is  the  result  of  our 
own  psychical  action  itself ;  as  when  a  chemist  affirms 
that  all  acids  turn  blue  litmus  paper  red,  or  that  there  is 
an  acid  in  a  given  compound  because  it  turns  the  paper 
red.     This  is  called  Elaborative  Knowledge. 

(4)  Finally,  we  have  a  fourth  kind  of  knowledge  that 
is  not  acquired  by  any  of  these  modes,  but  is  obtained  by 
stating  those  postulates,  or  assumed  truths,  that  underlie 
and  are  implied  in  the  whole  fabric  of  our  knowledge,  and 
without  which  all  would  be  without  unity,  validity,  or 
foundation.     This  is  called  Constitutive  Knowledge. 

4.   Division  of  the  Subject. 

For  the  sake  of  a  systematic  order  and  because  the  out- 
line just  given  shows  the  progress  of  Intellect  in  its 
activity,  we  shall  treat  of  each  of  these  four  kinds  of 
knowledge  in  a  separate  chapter,  as  follows  : 

(1)  Presentative  Knotvledge ; 

(2)  Representative  K}ioivledge ; 

(3)  Elaborative  Knotvledge ;    and 

(4)  Constitutive  Knowledge. 

Heferences  :  (1)  Bain's  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.  321 
(2)  SuUy's  Outlines  of  Psychology,  pp.  26,  27, 


CHAPTEH    I. 

PRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

TWO    FORMS    OF    PRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

Presentative  knowledge,  or  knowledge  presented  im- 
mediately to  the  soul,  is  of  two  kinds  :  (1)  that  which  is 
presented  in  Self-consciousness ;  and  (2)  that  which  is 
furnished  through  Sense-perception. 


SECTION    I. 

SELF-CONSCiOUSNESS. 

1.  Self-consciousness  Defined. 

Self-consciousness  is  the  soul's  knowledge  of  itself.    In 

every  act  of  knowledge  there  are  three  essential  elements  : 
(1)  the  knowing  subject  or  self-conscious  Ego;  (2)  the 
object  of  knowledge  ;  and  (3)  the  states  and  actions  of  the 

soul  as  alfected  by  the  object  of  knowledge.  The  know- 
ing self  may  not  be  prominent  in  the  state  of  conscious- 
ness, but  is  essential  to  it.  The  object  of  knowledge  may 
be  either  external  or  internal.  The  states  and  actions  of 
the  soul  as  affected  by  the  object  of  knowledge  may  them- 
selves, in  turn,  become  objects  of  knowledge.  All  three 
of  these  elements  are  included  in  what  we  designate  by 
the  word  "consciousness,'*  '^  Self -consciousness^^  being 
limited  to  the  souFs  knowledge  of  itself  as  present  in  the 


PKJUSENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  15 

field  of  consciousness.  Self-consciousness  is  the  founda- 
tion of  all  oui'  knowledge,  because  the  soul's  testimony  to 
its  own  experiences  is  the  only  evidence  of  their  reality. 

Consciousness  cannot  be  defined.  It  is  the  pre-condition  of  anj 
definition  whatever.  Every  attempt  to  define  it,  therefore,  moves  in 
a  circle.  It  is  a  fundamental  and  universal  fact  of  psychical  exist- 
ence. While  indefinable,  it  is  known  to  all,  and  the  word  may  be 
used  without  attempt  at  definition.  Psychological  science  can  study 
its  forms  and  conditions,  but  everywhere  assumes  its  existence  in  the 
beings  of  which  it  treats.  To  the  unconscious,  no  science  is  pos- 
sible. The  reality  of  consciousness  has  never  been  denied.  Self- 
consciousness,  however,  implies  the  presence  in  consciousness  of  a 
self -known  subject,  or  being  that  knows  itself  as  being  conscious. 

Every  denial  of  Self-consciousness  tends  to  destroy  the 
foundations  of  all  knowledge;  for,  if  there  is  no  conscious  self 
that  knows  itself  as  a  present  witness  to  psychical  experiences,  we 
are  without  evidence  that  these  experiences  have  taken  place  and  the 
certainty  of  knowledge  is  questionable.  A  great  French  philosopher, 
Rene  Descartes  (1596-165'0),  sometimes  called  the  "Father  of 
Modern  Psychology,"  began  his  philosophizing  by  doubting  every- 
thing about  which  he  could  not  be  absolutely  certain.  At  last,  when 
he  came  to  the  question  of  his  own  existence,  he  reached  a  point 
beyond  which  doubt  could  not  go.  "  Cogito,  ergo  sum,^'  I  tJiink, 
therefore,  I  am,  seemed  to  him  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt. 
Thinking  does,  indeed,  seem  impossible,  unless  the  being  that  thinks, 
is.  But  I  think,  therefore,  I  am.  Descartes  has  put  in  the  form  ofi 
an  argument  what  it  would  seem  more  natural  to  regard  as  an  in- 
tuition, or  truth  directly  and  immediately  known  without  argument 
and,  in  reality,  necessary  to  the  existence  of  any  argument.  This, 
is,  probably,  what  Descartes  really  meant,  for  his  argument  is  that 
the  very  idea  of  thinking  implies  the  existence  of  a  thinker  as  a 
pre-condition. 

2.  Hume's  Denial  of  Self-consciousness. 

David  Hume  (1711-1776),  the  Scotch  skeptic,  says: 
*'  For  my  part,  when  I  enter  most  intimately  into  what  I 


16  PSYCHOLOGY. 

call  my  self f  I  always  stumble  on  some  particular  percep- 
tion or  other,  of  heat  or  cold,  light  or  shade,  love  or  hate, 
pain  or  pleasure.  I  can  never  catch  myself  at  any  time 
without  a  perception,  and  never  can  observe  anything  but 
the  perception.  .  .  .  One  may,  perhaps,  perceive  some- 
thing simple  and  continued  that  he  calls  himself,  though 
I  am  certain  there  is  no  such  principle  in  tuq"  ^  In  this 
denial  of  Self-consciousness,  Hume  unwittingly  admits  : 
(1)  that  he  can  enter  '''most  intimately'^  into  what  he 
calls  himself;  (2)  that  he  always  stumbles  on  some  par- 
ticular perception,  thus  confessing  the  continuity  of  being 
Avhich  he  formally  denies ;  (3)  that  he  is  certain,  from 
continued  self-inspection,  that  there  is  no  continued 
principle  in  himself.  As  for  his  '^  never  catching  himself 
ivithout  a  perception,"'  Calderwood  very  acutely  remarks, 
that,  to  prove  his  Self-consciousness,  it  is  sufficient;  for 
him  to  catch  himself  ivith  one. 

John  Locke  (1632-1704),  an  English  philosopher  of  great  celeb- 
rity, advanced  a  doctrine  of  Representative  Ideas  that  seemed  to 
involve  a  denial  of  our  immediate  knowledge  of  matter.  George 
Berkeley  (1684-1753),  an  Irish  metaphysician  and  the  founder  of 
British  Idealism,  followed  up  Locke's  doctrine  and  attempted  to 
show  that,  assuming  its  truth,  as  he  did,  we  have  no  knowledge^ 
exce][)t  of  ideas.  The  whole  universe  was  thus  construed  as  a  product 
of  mind  and  a  purely  spiritual  existence.  Hume  attacked  Berkeley's 
doctrine  by  trying  to  show  that,  in  following  out  the  same  principle, 
we  have  only  an  idea  of  mind  as  well  as  only  an  idea  of  matter  ; 
that,  in  short,  we  know  nothing  as  real  and  substantial,  but  only 
phenomena,  or  passing  appearances.  For  Hume  the  soul  is  nothing 
but  a  series  of  sensations.  James  Mill  (1773-1836),  an  English 
philosopher,  and  his  more  distinguished  son,  named  in  the  following 
paragraph,  have  embraced  and  advocated  this  doctrine  of  Hume's. 
It  is  historically  the  foundation  of  modern  Agnosticism  (from  the 
Greek  a,  alpha,  implying  negation,  and  yvuacg,  gnosis,  knowledge), 
or  philosophic  ignorance. 


PRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  17 


3.  Mill  on  Self-consciousness. 

John  Stuart  Mill  (1806-1873),  one  of  the  most  noted 
of  recent  English  philosophers,  defines  the  soul  as  ''a 
series  of  feelings/'  "a  thread  of  consciousness/'  Although 
he  finds  no  difficulty  in  resolving  matter  into  ''the  per- 
manent possibility  of  sensations/'  he  admits  that,  ''If  we 
speak  of  the  mind  as  a  series  of  feelings,  we  are  obliged  to 
complete  the  statement  by  calling  it  a  series  of  feelings 
which  is  aware  of  itself  as  past  and  future ;  and  we  are 
reduced  to  the  alternative  of  believing  that  the  mind,  or 
Ego,  is  something  different  from  any  series  of  feelings,  or 
possibilities  of  them  ;  or  of  accepting  the  paradox,  that 
something  which  is  ex  hypotliesi  but  a  series  of  feelings, 
can  be  aware  of  itself  as  a  series. "^  He  adds:  "The  theory 
cannot  be  expressed  in  any  terms  which  do  not  deny  its 
truth."  Unless  we  are  willing  to  found  our  science  on  a 
mental  paradox  and  a  verbal  contradiction,  we  cannot 
follow  Hume  and  Mill  in  the  denial  of  Self -conscious- 
ness. 

The  fcllowing  paragraph  by  Borden  P.  Bowne  (184?-  ),  an 
American  psychologist,  seems  to  be  a  refutation  of  Mill's  doctrine  : 

"  Let  a,  b,  c,  and  d  be  respectively  a  sensation  of  color,  of  odor,  of 
taste,  and  of  sound.  Plainly  no  consciousness  can  be  built  out  of 
these  elements.  The  color  knows  nothing  of  the  odor  ;  the  taste 
knows  nothing  of  the  sound.  Each  is  a  particular  and  isolated  unit, 
and  must  remain  so  until  some  common  subject,  31,  is  given,  in  the 
unity  of  whose  consciousness  these  elements  may  be  united.  For  as 
long  as  a,  6,  c,  etc.,  are  all,  there  is  no  common  consciousness,  and 
hence  no  rational  consciousness,  at  all.  We  conclude,  then,  that 
the  mental  life,  both  in  its  elements  and  in  its  combinations,  must 
have  a  subject.  It  is  not  only  unintelligible,  it  is  impossible, 
without  it."  3 


18  PSYCHOLOGY. 


4.  Spencer's  Denial  of  Immediate  Self-consciou»- 

ness. 

Hepbert  Spencer  does  not  deny  Self-consciousness,  hni 
immediate  Self -consciousness.  Ht  iays  :  ^^Iso  one  is  con- 
scious of  what  he  is,  but  of  what  he  was  a  moment  before. 
...  It  is  impossible  to  be  at  the  same  time  that  which 
regards  and  that  which  is  regarded. ^^^  This  denial  of  im- 
mediate self-knowledge  proceeds  'from  the  theoretical 
ground  that  there  is  a  contradiction  in  being  at  the  same 
time  observer  and  observed.  No  such  impossibility  has 
been  proved.  If  it  were,  it  would  result  in  the  same  un- 
certainty of  all  our  knowledge .  which  Hume^s  doctrine 
involves.  One  could  never  say,  ^'1  know"  but  only  ^'1 
knew.''  But  how  could  one  say  "/  knew,^'  if  at  the 
time  when  he  knew  he  did  not  know  ?  Spencer's  doctrine 
involves  an  absurdity.  The  simple  fact  of  consciousness 
is  that  we  know  immediately  that  we  know,  without  an 
interval  of  time. 

Spencer  is  the  leading  representative  of  Modern  Agnosticism, 

and,  with  such  psychological  foundations,  it  would  seem  difficult  for 
him  to  be  certain  of  anything.  He  is,  however,  more  consistent  than 
Mill,  for  his  doctrine  involves  no  denial  of  the  substantial  being  of, 
the  soul,  simply  our  ignorance  of  it.  Spencer's  idea  that  time  must 
intervene  between  the  existence  of  a  state  of  consciousness  and  our 
knowledge  of  it  as  our  state,  may  grow  out  of  conceptions  of  thought 
as  a  physical  function,  requiring  time  for  transmission.  Sense- 
impressions,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  require  time  for  passing  from 
the  sense-organs  to  the  brain,  and  this  time  is  measurable.  It  has 
never  been  proved,  however,  that  any  time  intervenes  between  the 
production  of  a  state  of  consciousness  and  our  knowledge  of  it  as 
ours.  Doubtless  we  are  conscious  of  impressions  received  by  the 
brain  after  the  brain  has  received  them.  This,  however,  is  not  the 
point.    We  are  conscious  of  self  as  self  is,  or  not  at  aU. 


PRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  19 

6.  The  Continuity  of  Self-consciousness. 

Different  opinions  liave  been  held  concerning  the  con- 
tinuity or  periodicity  of  Self -consciousness.  Hamilton 
held  that  the  soul  is  never  unconscious  of  itself^  even 
during  sleep.  Many  of  its  experiences  are  lost  from 
memory^  leaving  blank  intervals  between  the  experiences 
distinctly  recalled.  Locke,  on  the  other  hand,  maintained 
that  the  soul  is  conscious  only  during  certain  periods,  and 
hat  at  other  times,  as  in  deep  sleep,  or  during  swoons,  it 
is  absolutely  unconscious.  The  question  is  of  small 
practical  importance ;  for,  though  it  be  shown  that  the 
soul  is  periodically  rather  than  constantly  conscious,  it 
knows  itself  on  regaining  consciousness  as  having  been 
before.  If  the  soul  still  knows  itself,  after  a  period  of 
unconsciousness,  it  is  certainly  something  very  different 
from  a  "series  of  feelings ^^  or  a  "thread  of  conscious- 
ness." 

Hamilton's  defense  of  the  continuity  of  consciousness  is  very 

jngenioiis  and  merits  a  careful  reading.  It  may  be  found  in  his 
''Lectures  on  Metaphysics,"  p.  216  ct  seq.  These  arguments  have 
been  repeated  and  reinforced  with  considerable  skill  by  an  American 
psychologist,  John  Bascom  (1827-  ),  in  his  "  Science  of  Mind," 
p.  72  et  seq.  Locke's  doctrine  may  be  found  in  his  "Essay  con- 
cerning Human  Understanding,"  Book  II.,  Chap.  I. 

6.  Two  Forms  of  Self-consciousness. 

Psychologists  have  distinguished  two  forms  of  Self- 
consciousness,  which  they  call  Spontaneous  and  Eeflective. 
The  distinction  has  value  mainly  in  showing  the  different 
degrees  of  intensity  with  which  Self-consciousness  ig 
realized.     Spontaneous  Self-consoiousness  is  intended  to 


20  FSYCnOLOGY. 

designate  that  low  degree  of  self-knowledge  wliicli  all 
men  possess.  Reflective  Self-consciousness  is  meant  to 
signify  that  energetic  realization  of  self-existence  that  is 
acquired  by  profound  reflection  upon  the  nature  and 
causes  of  our  being.  The  difference  between  them  is  one 
of  degree  alone.  It  consists  in  the  greater  degree  of 
Attention  (from  the  Latin  ad,  toward,  and  tendere,  to 
stretch),  or  concentration  of  consciousness,  with  which 
Eeflective  Self -consciousness  is  accompanied. 

Attention  is  sometimes  treated  by  writers  on  Psychology  as  if  it 
were  a  special  intellectual  faculty.  It  is  simply  a  concentration  of 
consciousness  upon  a  particular  object.  It  is  caused  either  by  some 
powerful  external  stimulation  of  interest,  in  which  case  it  is  invol- 
untary; or  by  some  personal  volition,  in  which  case  it  is  voluntary. 
In  every  case,  it  is  the  result  of  something  wholly  external  to  the 
soul,  or  of  an  exercise  of  Will,  or  of  a  habit  produced  by  one  or  the 
other  of  these  causes.  The  treatment  of  this  topic,  therefore,  falls 
most  naturally  under  the  third  part  of  our  division  of  Psychology, 
as  a  mode  of  action  connected  with  the  Will. 


7.  Origin  of  Reflectire  Self-consciousness. 

The  higher  form  of  Self-consciousness  is  developed  by 
the  reflective  use  of  the  intellectual  powers.  It  is  seldom 
found  in  the  very  young,  and  always  when  found  in  them 
indicates  an  abnormal  condition.  The  acquisition  of  ma- 
terials for  reflection  is  the  first  natural  step  in  the  progress 
of  development.  Eeflection  ought  then  to  follow.  If  it 
follows  too  early,  the  soul  ^^  feeds  upon  itself, ^^  producing 
an  abnormal  result.  Though  liable  to  abuse,  it  is  the 
necessary  attainment  of  the  philosopher  and  the  man  of 
science,  and  is  cultivated  by  close  self-examination  and 
self -analysis. 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  21 

8.  Normal  Forms  of  Reflective  Self-consciousness. 

There  are  two  forms  of  Reflective  Self-consciousness 
that  are  entirely  normal  and  exceedingly  useful.  They 
are  : 

(1)  The  Philosophical,  which  impels  the  Intellect  to 
observe  closely,  compare  widely  and  seek  diligently  for 
causes  and  principles.  It  seems  to  be  the  peculiar  posses- 
sion of  great  men,  who  differ  from  common  men  not  so 
much  in  the  special  brilliancy  of  any  one  faculty  as  in  the 
urgency  of  mind  by  which  they  are  impelled  to  great  dis- 
coveries or  enterprises. 

(2)  The  Ethical,  which  habitually  compares  self  with 
a  moral  standard,  with  a  view  to  self -improvement.  Noah 
Porter  (1811-  ),  an  American  metaphysician,  says  : 
"  Christianity  has  trained  the  Intellect  of  the  human  race 
to  this  activity,  and  hence  has  been  so  efficient  in  educat- 
ing and  elevating  the  masses  of  men,  even  where  it  has 
furnished  little  formal  intellectual  culture.'"^ 


9.  Abnormal  Forms  of  Reflective   Self- conscious- 
ness. 

There  are  several  forms  of  Reflective  Self -consciousness 
that  are  unquestionably  abnormal.     They  are  as  follows  : 

(1)  The  Precocious  form  is  manifested  in  some  chil- 
dren in  whom  the  subjective  life  has  too  early  come  to 
dominate  over  the  objective.  The  natural  sphere  of  men- 
tal activity  for  a  child  is  that  of  his  perceptions.  He 
should  be  chiefly  interested  in  the  objects  around  him, 
not  in  himself.  The  perfectly  normal  child  is  largely 
occupied  with  the  outer  world. 


22  PSYCHOLOGY. 

For  this  there  is  .1  physical,  as  well  as  a  psychical  reason.  The 
brain  and  nervous  system  increase  in  size  rapidly  until  about  the 
seventh  year.  After  this  the  brain  increases  but  little  in  size,  but 
the  osseous  and  muscular  systems  increase  rapidly,  until  full  growth 
is  attained.  This  time  of  growth  is  the  period  for  the  co-ordination 
of  the  nervous  and  muscular  systems  with  the  outer  world.  If  it  is 
not  made  then,  the  difficulty  increases  later  on.  If  too  much  reflec- 
tion is  required,  the  delicate  brain  is  too  severely  taxed  before  it  has 
attained  its  maximum  "of  power  and  the  free  activities  necessary  to 
what  may  be  called  "  terminal,"  as  distinguished  from  "central," 
growth  are  rendered  impossible. 

(2)  The  Egotistic  form  consists  in  an  unnatural  interest 
in  self  and  a  nervous  anxiety  about  one's  appearance  or 
reputation  or  the  impression  one  is  making.  It  causes 
one  to  blusli  if  lie  is  noticed,  and  to  be  sulky  if  he  is  over- 
iooked.  It  leads  to  affectation  in  society  and  tliouglit  and 
often  results  in  positive  unhappiness. 

(3)  The  Hypochondriacal  form  is  usually  the  product  of 
some  chronic  disease  wliicli  leads  tlie  patient  to  be  always 
thinking  of  his  own  sensations  and  always  imagining  that 
they  are  to  become  worse,  without  hope  of  betterment. 
People  thus  afflicted  exaggerate  their  own  sufferings  and 
are  sometimes  confirmed  in  their  abnormal  states  by  sym- 
pathetic friends  who  encourage  their  delusions.  Hypo- 
chondria is  often  Nature's  penalty  for  inordinate  self- 
ishness. 


10.  The  Relation  of  Self-consciousness  to  Educa- 
tion. 

Education  is  the  unfolding,  or  drawing  out,  of  innate 
powers,  while  training  is  the  impressing  of  another's  will 
upon  the  activities  of  the  being  trained.  The  lower  ani- 
mals may  be  trained,  but  they  cannot  be  educated.     We 


PRESENTATlVE  KNOWLEDGE.  23 

can  compel  them  to  do  our  will,  but  we  cannot  draw  out 
powers  whicli  they  do  not  possess,  or  develop  powers 
within  them  to  whose  production  they  do  not  conspire. 
The  first  condition  of  education,  in  any  high  sense,  is  the 
existence  of  a  Self-consciousness  that  will  respond  to  our 
efforts  to  develo])  latent  powers.  Nothing  can  be  educated 
that  cannot  say,  '^I."  Nothing  is  beyond  the  hope  of 
education  that  can  say,  ''I  will  try."  Every  thing  pivots 
upon  this  realization  of  self.  Laura  Bridgman^  could  be 
educated,  though  she  was  blind  and  deaf.  She  could  say, 
"  1,"  not  orally,  for  she  was  dumb,  but  mentally.  She 
could  respond  to  intelligent  communications  through  the 
sense  of  touch  alone,  because  she  possessed  self-conscious 
intelligence.  No  motives  to  learn,  except  physical  mo- 
tives, can  be  offered  to  a  being  who  does  not  know  that  he 
belongs  to  a  higher  order.  The  human  child  becomes 
educable  when  he  arrives  at  the  knowledge  of  liimself  as 
self-conscious.  Prior  to  that,  he  is  susceptible  of  training, 
but  not  of  education. 

lit  this  section,  on  "  Self-consciousness,"  we  liave 
considered  :— 

1,  Self-consciousness  Defined, 

2,  Mntne^s  Denial  of  Self-consciousness. 

3,  Mill  on  Self-consciousness, 

4,  Spencer's  Denial  of  Immediate  Self -con  scious" 

ness, 

5,  The  ConUnuitif  of  Self-consciousness, 

6,  Tivo  Forms  of  Self -consciousness, 

7,  Origin  of  Reflective  Self-consciousness, 

8,  Normal  Forms  of  Hefiective  Self-consciousness, 

9,  Abnormal  Forms  of  Reflective  Self-conscious- 

ness, 
10,  The  Relation  of  Self-consciousness  to  Education^ 


U  PSYCHOLOGY. 

References  :  (1)  Hume's  Treatise  of  Hiiman  Nature,  p.  321 
(2)  Mill's  Examination  of  Sir  William  Hamilton's  Philosophy,  I., 
pp.  2G0,  2G2.  (3)  Bowne's  Introduction  to  Psychological  Theory,  p.  13. 
(4)  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psychology,  Part  IT.,  Chap.  I.  (5)  Por- 
ter's Human  Intellect,  p.  106.  (6)  For  an  account  of  Laura  Bridg- 
man,  see  her  Life,  by  Mary  Smith  Larason ;  for  a  shorter,  but  very 
good,  account,  see  the  article  by  G.  Stanley  Hall,  in  Mind,  reprinted 
i.n  bis  Aspects  of  German  Culture,  pp.  237,  270. 


SECTION  n. 

SENSE-PERCEPTION. 
1.  Sense-perception  Defined. 

Sense-perception  is  the  soul's  knowledge  of  material 
objects.  The  word  "  perception  "  (from  the  Latin  per^ 
through,  and  ccq^ere,  to  take,  implying  a  taking  through 
an  organ  of  sense)  is  used  to  designate  apotver,  an  act,  and 
even  an  object.  Thus  we  say,  '^  The  soul  has  percep- 
tio7i/'  where  we  mean  that  the  soul  has  power  of  percep- 
tion. Again,  we  say,  ''^  My  perception  of  that  sound  is 
not  acute,"  where  we  understand  the  particular  act  of 
perception.  Finally,  we  say,  ^^  Do  you  recall  the  percep- 
tions you  had  during  your  walk  ?  "  where  the  reference  is 
to  certain  objects  perceived. 

The  analysis  of  Sense-perception  is  difficult  on  account  of  the 
complex  character  of  an  act  of  perception  and  the  psycho-physical 
relations  involved.  Every  perception  is  accompanied  with  some  de- 
gree of  sensation,  which,  as  mere  feeling  and  not  knowledge,  must 
be  separated  in  the  analysis  from  the  perception  itself.  Previous 
perceptions,  revived  through  the  representative  power,  are  always 
blending  themselves  with  present  perceptions.  Acts  of  judgment 
also  are  mingled  Tf ith  what  we  take  for  pure  perceptions  in  a  man- 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  25 

ner  almost  incredibre  until  the  fact  is  demonstrated.  But  the  prin- 
cipal difficulty,  and  one  that  has  given  rise  to  more  discussion  than 
any  other  single  problem  of  Psychology,  is  the  discovery  of  the  line 
of  separation  between  the  functions  of  the  sense-organs  and  the 
powers  of  the  soul. 

2.  The  Two  Elements  in  Sense-perception. 

There  are  two  elements  in  an  act  of  Sense-perception. 
The  first  is  the  act  of  perception  proper,  by  which  the 
external  object  is  known.  The  second  is  the  state  of  the 
soul  in  performing  the  act  of  perception  and  is  called  a 
sensation.  The  first  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  Intellect, 
the  second  to  the  sphere  of  Sensibility. 

(1)  Perception  proper  has  the  following   characteristics : 

{a)  It  is  an  act  of  hnoiuledge. 

(b)  It  gives  knowledge  of  a  7ion-Ugo. 

(c)  It  gives  knowledge  of  a  sjmce-occiipying  non-Ego. 

(2)  Sensation  proper  has  the  following  characteristics: 

{a)  It  is  a  state  of  the  soul. 

(d)  It  is  a  form  of  feeling  connected  with  the  bodily 
organism. 

(c)  It  is  a  feeling  that  may  be  localized  in  the  organism. 

As  an  example  of  Sense-perception,  involving  these  two 
elements,  take  the  case  of  knowing  an  object,  say  a  knife, 
by  touch.  There  is  the  perception  of  tvhat  the  object  is, 
and  it  is  known  as  not-Self,  and  as  occupying  a  certain 
limited  and  defined  space.  But  certain  states  of  feeling 
are  likewise  induced.  I  feel  the  sharp  edge  of  the  blade 
on  my  thumb  and  localize  there  a  sensation,  at  first  indif- 
ferent, but,  as  I  press  harder  against  the  edge,  becoming 


26  PSYCHOLOGY. 

painfui.     We  have^  then,  hnoivledgc  and  feeling,  but  the 
knowledge  is  acquired  through  the  feeling. 

Hamilton  traces  back  the  history  of  this  distinction  through 
Reid  and  others  to  Piotinus  (205-270),  a  Neo-Platonic  philosopher 
of  Alexandria.  Hamilton  considers  Reid's  account  of  the  distinc- 
tion as  wanting  in  precision  and  gives  a  restatement  of  his  own.  He 
also  lays  down  the  following  law  ;  "  Knowledge  and  feeling, — per- 
ception and  sensation, — though  always  co-existent,  are  always  in 
the  inverse  ratio  of  each  other."  He  adds:  ''Above  a  certain  limit, 
perception  declines,  in  proportion  as  sensation  rises.  Thus,  in  the 
sense  of  sight,  if  the  impression  be  strong,  we  are  dazzled,  blinded, 
and  consciousness  is  limited  to  the  pain  or  pleasure  of  the  sensation, 
in  the  intensity  of  which  perception  is  lost."  ^ 

3.  The  Couclitions  of  Sense-perception. 

Sense-perception  takes  place  only  under  the  following 
conditions  :  (1)  There  must  be  a  nervous  organism,  adapt- 
ed to  receiving  and  convejdng  impressions ;  (2)  there 
must  be  some  external  excitant,  capable  of  furnishing  an 
impression ;  (3)  there  must  be  an  actual  excitation  of  the 
organism  by  the  excitant. 

(1)  The  nervous  organism  in  man  consists  of  the  sym- 
pathetic and  the  cerebro-spinal  systems.  AYith  the  former 
we  are  not  at  present  concerned.  The  cerebro-spinal 
system  consists  of  the  brain  (see  Figures  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6, 
and  1,  at  the  end  of  the  text),  the  medulla  oblongata  (see 
Figures  2  and  7),  and  the  spinal  cord  (see  Figures  1,  2, 
and  3),  with  their  attachments  (see  Figures  1,  2,  and  3) 
and  ramifications  in  the  sense-organs  (see  Figures  8  to  17). 
This  organism  is  composed  of  two  kinds  of  matter,  {a)  the 
gray,  which  is  cellular  and  is  supjDosed  to  be  the  source  of 
nervous  energy  (see  Figure  8,  vl) ;  and  (b)  the  white,  which 
is  fibrous  and  furnishes  lines  for  the  transmission  of  nerv- 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  27 

ous  currents  (see  Figure  8,  B).  Considering  the  whole  as 
a  telegrapliic  system,  the  gray  matter  takes  the  place  of 
batteries  and  the  white  matter  that  of  wires.  The  con- 
ducting fibres  are  grouped  in  fasciculi,  or  bundles,  in  the, 
manner  of  a  cable.  They  are  all  adapted  to  the  trancmis- 
sion  of  imj^ressions,  but  not  all  in  the  same  direction. 
The  affepent  (from  the  Latin  cid,  to,  and/erre,  to  bear),  or 
sensor,  nerves  are  so  placed  as  to  receive  impressions  from 
the  outer  world,  which  they  convey  inward  to  the  brain. 
The  eifepent  (from  the  Latin  e,  out,  and  ferre,  to  bear), 
or  motop,  nerves  are  so  placed  as  to  convey  impulses  out- 
ward from  the  brain  to  the  muscles  to  which  they  are 
attached. 

The  localization  of  special  functions  in  the  brain  is  an  irxter- 
esting,  but  still  an  open,  question.  A  celebrated  Scotch  physiolo- 
gist, David  Ferrier  (1843-  ),  has  attempted,  in  his  great  work  ok 
"  The  Functions  of  the  Brain,"  to  demonstrate,  by  means  of  experi- 
ments made  on  lower  animals,  that  certain  particular  regions  of  the 
brain  are  devoted  to  the  performance  of  certain  partietriar  functions. 
These  are  divided  into  sensor  centres  and  motor  centres.  The  sensor 
centres  each  receive  particular  kinds  of  impressions.  There  are  the 
auditory,  or  hearing,  centre ;  the  visual,  or  seeing,  centre ;  the  gust- 
atory, or  tasting,  centre ;  the  olfactory,  or  smelling,  centre ;  and  the 
tactual,  or  touching,  centre.  In  a  similar  manner  the  motor  cen- 
tres are  divided.  It  is  probably  true,  that,  in  a  general  sense,  there| 
arc  such  particular  centres,  though  the  imaginary  distribution  cf 
them  employed  in  the  pseudo-science  of  Phrenology  cannot  be  sus- 
tained on  scientific  ground  and  the  experimental  distribution  at- 
tempted by  Ferrier  is  not  universally  admitted.  Every  theory  of 
localization  of  function  has  been  denied  by  the  English  physiologist 
and  writer,  George  Henry  Lewes  (1817-1878),  who  says:  "The 
physiological  properties  of  the  nervous  system  are  inseparable  from 
every  segment  of  that  system ;  and  the  functions  are  the  manifesta- 
tion of  those  properties  as  determined  by  the  special  organs  with  the 
co-operation  of  all."*     Perhaps  a  higher  authority  is  the  German 


28  PSYCHOLOGY. 

experimenter,  Goltz,  who  has  conchided,  on  the  basis  of  experiment, 
that  "The  liypothesis  of  circumscribed  centres  subserving  special 
functions  in  the  cerebral  cortex  is  untenable."  ^  George  Croom 
Robertson  (1842-  ),  the  editor  of  the  English  psychological  quar- 
terly, "Mind,"  says,  in  reviewing  the  claims  of  the  rival  experi- 
menters: "  Goltz's  conception  of  the  intricate  constitution  and  work' 
ing  of  the  brain,  so  far  as  he  has  yet  shadowed  it  forth,  must  be  said 
to  come  much  nearer  [than  that  of  Ferrier]  to  meeting  the  require- 
ments which  psychology  would  make  of  physiology ;  and,  so  long  as 
such  facts  can  be  produced  as  Goltz  has  recorded  in  his  memoirs,  it 
is  hard  to  believe  that  Ferrier  rightly  interprets  the  different  facts 
which  he  on  his  side  may  now  be  allowed  to  have  established."^ 

(2)  If  tliere  were  no  external  excitants,  tlie  nervous 
organism  would  receive  no  impressions  to  transmit.  The 
outer  world,  however,  is  a  system  of  forces  that  continually 
act  upon  the  sensor  nerves.  The  waves  of  light,  during  a 
large  part  of  every  day,  do  not  cease  to  beat  ujoon  the  eye, 
whose  thin  j^rotecting  covering,  even  when  closed,  does 
not  effectually  exclude  the  luminous  flood.  The  undula- 
tions of  the  air  are  even  more  obtrusive  and  j)Our  them- 
selves incessantly  upon  the  ear,  ebbing  a  little  only  for  a 
few  hours  in  the  night.  Odors,  savory  and  unsavory,  per- 
meate the  air  and  compel  the  nostril  to  inhale  them. 
Surfaces  surround  us  everywhere,  some  of  which  the  force 
of  gravity  compels  us  to  rest  upon,  giving  us  incessant 
experiences  of  hardness  or  softness,  roughness  or  smooth- 
ness. These  external  excitants,  then,  furnish  the  phys- 
ical stimulus. 

The  science  of  Physics  has  shown  that  the  so-called  material 
world  is  a  world  of  motion.  Reduced  to  its  one  fundamental 
characteristic,  the  physical  world  reveals  itself  through  vibration. 
"  If  we  imagine  a  machine  so  constructed  as  to  be  able  to  impress 
on  a  rod  of  metal  vibrations  of  every  degree  of  rapidity,  we  can  set 
forth  an  imaginary  gradation  in  the  sensory  responses.     Thus,  in  a 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  29 

darkened  room,  the  rod  begins  oscillating  and  we  feel  its  irapaots  on 
our  skin  as  so  many  gentle  taps  ;  when  the  vibrations  of  the  air  thas 
excited  become  sufficiently  numerous,  we  feel  them  as  pulses,  which 
we  hear  as  puffs.  When  these  puffs  reach  a  rapidity  of  16  in  the 
second,  they  pass  into  the  deepest  bass  tone.  Here  begin  the  specific 
responses  of  tone  ;  and  they  will  run  through  the  whole  musical 
gamut  as  the  vibrations  increase  in  quantity,  the  tones  becoming 
shriller  and  shriller  (but  not  louder)  until  the  vibrations  amount  to 
36,000  in  a  second.  Then  all  again  is  silence.  The  vibrations  may 
increase  and  increase,  but  this  increase  brings  with  it  no  sound.  It 
may  be  that  here,  or  somewhere  about  this  limit,  the  molecules  of 
the  air  suddenly  cease  to  move  ;  they  have  reached  their  limit  of 
oscillation  ;  and  any  fresh  impulse  will  move  the  air  in  a  mass,  but 
not  move  it  in  waves.  Besides  the  air,  however,  there  is  ether,  and 
this  takes  up  the  motion  of  the  rod.  At  first,  the  ethereal  pulses  are 
not  powerful  enough  to  move  the  comparatively  heavy  molecules  of 
a  sensor  nerve  :  for  such  an  effect  a  greater  rapidity  is  requisite,  and 
when  this  reaches  18  millions  in  a  second,  the  sensor  nerves  of  the 
skin  respond  in  what  is  known  as  a  sensation  of  luarmth.  The  leap 
from  36,000  vibrations  of  air  to  18  million  vibrations  of  ether,  is  the 
leap  from  sound  to  heat.  The  rod  continues  its  acceleration,  and 
when  it  reaches  462  billion  vibrations  in  a  second,  then  only  is  it 
Juminous.  The  sensation  of  heat  disappears,  giving  place  to  that  of 
light, — that  is,  to  red  rays.  The  rays  pass  from  red  to  yellow  when 
the  vibrations  reach  540  billion,  to  green  when  they  reach  582  billion, 
and  to  violet  when  they  reach  733  billion  in  a  second.  Such  at 
least  are  the  verdicts  of  the  calculus.  The7i  all  is  darkness.^''  ^  And 
yet  we  know,  from  chemical  reactions,  that  still  more  rapid  vibra- 
tions exist. 

(3)  Of  the  innumerable  excitants  about  us  only  those 
which  cause  actual  excitation  of  the  organism  produce 
either  sensations  or  perceptions  within  us.  Whenever,  by 
any  cause,  a  special  set  of  nerves  is  paralyzed,  the  excit- 
ants that  operate  through  the  paralyzed  set  of  nerves  can- 
not affect  the  organism.  Blindness  is  such  a  condition  of 
the  optic  nerves.  Thus  a  whole  sphere  of  knowledge  is 
shut  out  from  the  consciousness  of  the  blind.     There  is 


30  PSYCHOLOGY. 

evidently  necessary,  then,  in  addition  to  the  presence  of 
external  excitants,  a  physiological  stimulus.  This  is 
furnished  by  the  nervous  system. 

Wc  are  surrounded  with  an  invisible  universe,  which  can  be 
mathematically  proved  to  exist  and  into  which  we  sometimes  obtain 
glimpses  through  the  telescope  and  the  microscope,  but  which  no 
instrument  of  precision  can  fathom.  The  fixed  stars  are  so  distant 
that  the  largest  telescope  does  not  affect  their  magnitude  and  no 
microscope  has  enabled  us  to  see  a  thought.  Sensation  and  percep- 
tion are  evidently  conditioned  upon  the  adjustment  of  our  sense- 
organs  to  the  objective  world.  Many  of  the  lower  animals  show  a 
far  finer  adjustment  than  man  can  boast.  It  is  evident  also  that 
men  vary  in  their  delicacy  of  adjustment  to  the  external  world.  The 
phenomena  of  Clairvoyance,  so  far  as  they  can  be  proved  real  and 
not  apochiyphal  stories,  find  their  scientific  explanation  in  the  ex- 
traordinary delicacy  of  adjustment  to  external  conditions.  We  can 
place  no  strictly  scientific  limit  to  the  range  of  perception.  It  is, 
however,  highly  probable  that  all  communications  are  to  be  ex- 
plained in  the  same  way  and  consist  in  the  transmission  of  impres- 
sions through  the  nervous  system.  The  hypothesis  of  modern 
Spiritism,  usually  accompanied  with  the  motives  and  machinery  of 
trickery  and  deception,  which  refers  unusual  power  of  perception  to 
the  revelation  of  spiritual  agents,  is  wholly  unscientific  and  unworthy 
of  credence.  Such  phenomena  as  the  transference  of  thought  at  a 
distance,  mind-reading  and  kindred  subjects  are  undergoing  in- 
vestigation by  a  Society  for  Psychical  Research  formed  for  the 
purpose  of  extending  our  knowledge  of  the  extraordinary  in  psychi- 
cal experiences.  Whatever  may  be  found  true  with  regard  to  the 
exceptional,  and  often  wholly  imaginary,  conditions  of  knowledge, 
it  will  not  essentially  affect  what  is  more  certainly  determined.* 

4.  Abnormal  Excitation. 

The  nervous  organism,  as  a  part  of  the  corporeal  sys- 
tem, is  liable  to  disease.  Mechanical  rupture,  chemical 
disorganization,  poisonous  constituents  in  the  blood,  or 
defective  nourishment,  may  readily  derange  the  transmit- 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  31 

ting  power  of  a  nerve  or  set  of  nerves,  and  thus  either 
destroy  or  vitiate  all  communications  through  them. 
Fever  has  a  powerful  disintegrating  tendency  and  often 
fills  the  sufferer  with  abnormal  excitations  amounting  to 
that  complete  confusion  of  sense-impressions  called  de- 
lirium. Visions^  epileptic  fits^  and  insanity  are  results  of 
viljnormal  excitation  of  the  nervous  organism.  It  is  a 
noteworthy  fact,  as  affording  some  explanation  of  these 
phenomena,  that,  if  a  nerve  be  irritated  in  any  unnatural 
way,  it  will  still  convey  an  impression  of  its  own  peculiar 
kiiid.  Thus,  an  electric  current  in  the  optic  nerve  pro- 
duces a  flash  of  light  and  in  the  auditory  nerve  a  sound. 
This  is  called  the  idiopathy  of  the  nerves  (from  the  Greek, 
Idiog,  idios,  own,  and  naOo^,  pafJios,  suffering).  It  is  also 
expressed  as  the  specific  energy  of  the  nerves. 

The  doctrine  of  the  specific  energy  of  nerves  has  been  generally 
accepted  since  the  time  of  the  great  German  physiologist,  J.  Miiller 
(1801-1858),  and  is  still  held  by  the  German  physicist,  H.  L.  F. 
Helmholtz  (1821-  ),  to  be  of  extraordinary  importance  to  the 
theory  of  perception.  It  is,  however,  rejected  by  Lewes,  who  says  : 
"The  specific  sensation,  or  movement,  which  results  from  stimular- 
tion  of  a  nerve  depends  not  on  the  nerve,  but  on  the  mechanism  of 
v/hich  the  nerve  is  one  element." '  Hermann  Lotze  (1817-1881),  a 
di.5tinguished  German  psychologist,  denies  the  specific  energies  of 
the  nerves,  holding  that  specific  energies  would  imply  specific  struc- 
tures, of  which  we  know  nothing.  He  says  :  "  We  merely  know  that 
the  stimulus  of  light,  impact  and  pressure,  the  passage  of  a  current 
of  electricity  through  the  eye,  awaken  the  sensation  of  light  ;  and 
perhaps  that  impact  and  electricity  produce  also  the  sensation  of 
sound ;  and  the  latter  also  the  sensation  of  taste.  Now  a  motion  of 
the  ponderable  parts  by  means  of  impact  can  scarcely  take  place  in 
tlie  tense  eye-ball  without  a  part  of  this  motion  being  also  converted 
into  motions  of  the  ether  that  exists  in  the  eye,  and  so  producing  a 
motion  of  light,  which  acts  as  adequate  stimulus  upon  the  nerve  of 
sight  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  if  it  came  from  without.     Just  s< 


32  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  imparted  shocks  may  be  changed  into  oscillations  of  the  tense 
parts  and  membranes,  which  are  then  normal  stimuli  for  the  nerve 
of  hearing  just  as  well  as  are  the  acoustic  waves  that  come  from 
without.  Finally,  it  is  quite  certain  that  the  electrical  current  ex- 
cites chemical  decomposition  of  the  fluids  of  the  mouth,  and  that  the 
adequate  stimulus  for  the  nerve  of  taste  consists  in  this  directly."  ^ 


5.  Definition  of  a  Sense  and  a  Sense-organ. 

A  sense  is  a  power  of  the  soul  to  know  a  particular  class 
of  external  impressions.  A  sense-organ  is  a  part  of  the 
terminal  apparatus  of  the  nervous  organism  that  furnishes 
the  soul  with  some  impression  in  an  act  of  Sense-percep- 
tion. The  word  "  sense  "  is  often  used  to  signify  gener*'" 
intelligence,  as  when  we  say,  "  That  is  a  man  of  sense."" 

It  is  important  to  remember  that  a  sense  is  a  psychical  power 
while  a  sense-organ  is  a  physiological  part.  It  is  not  the  eye  that 
sees  nor  the  ear  that  hears,  nor  is  it  the  brain.  It  is  the  self- 
conscious  Ego.  /both  see  and  hear,  with  the  aid  of  my  sense-organs 
as  instruments.  An  eye-glass  or  an  ear-trumpet  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary to  supplement  the  natural  organ.  The  organic  instruments  no 
more  do  the  seeing  and  hearing  than  do  these  artificial  aids.  They 
are  simply  essential  helps  in  the  process  of  Sense-perception. 

6.  Classification  of  tlie  Senses. 

,    The  following  classification  of  the  senses  is  the  most 
satisfactory : 

(1)  The  Muscular  Sense  has  for  its  organs  nerves  dis- 
tributed to  the  muscles,  which  furnish  such  sensations  as 
those  of  motion,  resistance,  weariness,  excess  of  energy, 
etc.  The  sensations  thus  derived  are  of  two  classes  :  {a) 
Sensations  of  free  movement;  and  {h)  Sensations  of  im- 
peded movement. 

(2)  The  Organic  Sense  has  for  its  organs  nerves  dis- 


PRESENTATIYE  KNOWLEDGE.  33 

tributed  to  the  various  bodily  organs,  furnishing  sensa- 
tions, readily  distinguished  from  the  muscular  sensations, 
indicative  of  the  organic  condition  of  health  and  giving 
notice  of  disease  in  the  organs  by  sensations  of  pain  or 
uneasiness. 

(3)  The  Special  Senses  are  five  in  number  and  are 
called  ''  special "'  because  each  has  a  special  organ  furnish- 
ing the  most  important  elements  of  Sense-perception. 
They  are  Touch,  Smell,  Taste,  Hearing,  and  Sight.  It  is 
with  these  five  special  senses  that  we  have  mainly  to  deal 
in  discussing  Sense-perception. 

Another  classification  of  the  senses,  based  upon  the  mode  in 
"which  the  sense-organs  are  stimulated,  has  been  given,  as  follows : 

Molar  or  Dynamical  senses \  Tactile-Touch. 

{  Acoustic— Hearing. 

Molecular  or  Chemical  senses -I  ^^!^^*l*r~'^„^^*^- 

(  Catalytic— Smell. 

Intermolecular  or  Etheric  senses \  Thermic-Temperature. 

( Photic— Sight. 

The  sensations  of  touch  and  of  temperature  are,  indeed,  different, 
but  they  are  received  through  the  same  general  organs. 

Regarding  the  completeness  of  the  human  senses,  as  related  to 
external  nature,  no  certainty  can  ever  be  attained ;  for,  if  there  are 
agencies  in  nature  other  than  those  which  now  produce  sensations 
within  us,  it  is  impossible  to  prove  their  existence,  unless  our  organ- 
ization were  so  changed  as  to  enable  us  to  perceive  them.  "  It  is, 
however,  as  unphilosophical  to  suggest  a  limit  to  the  number  of  modes 
pi  action  of  the  common  force  of  nature  as  it  is  to  assume  the  exist- 
ence of  such  modes  as  we  cannot  possibly  establish  by  proof ;  for  we 
cannot  deny  the  existence  of  other  modes  of  action  of  the  force  of 
nature  than  those  revealed  by  our  present  senses." 


7.  The  Special  Senses. 

(1)  Touch. — The   tactual   sense   has  its   organ  in  the 
skfn  (see  Figure  9).     This  is  filled  with  minute  papillae, 


34  PSYCHOLOGY. 

placed  beneath  the  cutis  and  enclosing  the  terminations 
of  fine  filaments  of  nerve  (see  Figures  9  and  10).  Differ- 
ent parts  of  the  skin  vary  in  sensibility.  The  sensory 
circles,  or  areas  limited  by  the  ability  to  distinguish  the 
two  2)oints  of  a  pair  of  dividers,  range  from  four  one-hun- 
dredths  of  an  inch  to  over  two  and  a  half  inches  in  diam- 
eter. There  are  five  classes  of  distinguishable  sensations 
of  touch  :  (ci)  those  of 'gentle  touch,  as  when  a  finger  is 
laid  softly  on  a  smooth  surface  ;  {h)  those  of  acute  pain,  as 
when  a  sharp  point  is  touched;  (c)  those  of  temperature,  as 
when  the  hand  is  placed  on  a  hot  surface ;  {d)  those  of 
pressure,  as  when  a  light  weight  is  laid  on  the  surface  ; 
and  [e)  those  of  reaction,  as  wdien  we  feel  that  a  little 
more  or  a  little  less  force  must  be  used  to  hold  or  balance 
an  object.  The  last  two  are  combinations  wdth  muscular 
sensations.  All  tactile  sensations  are  referred  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  body  and  are  assigned  location  in  space. 

The  extent  of  sensory  circles  was  first  determined  in  1835  by  a 
German  physiologist,  E.  H.  Weber,  who  has  been  followed  by  other 
experimenters.  The  method  is  to  take  a  pair  of  blunt-pointed  di- 
viders and  apply  the  points  to  the  skin  of  another  person  in  different 
places,  bringing  the  points  together  till  there  seems  to  be  but  owe 
sensation.  The  distance  of  the  points  from  each  other  is  then  re- 
corded. The  individual  variation  is  very  great.  The  following  is  a 
comparative  table  based  on  the  most  carefully  compiled  results : 

Tongne-tip 1.1  mm.  (.04  inch) 

Palm  side  of  last  phalanx  of  finger 2.2  mm.  (.08  inch) 

Red  part  of  lips 4.4  mm.  (.16  inch) 

Tip  of  nose 6.6  mm.  (.24  inch) 

Back  of  second  phalanx  of  finger 11.0  mm.  (.44  inch) 

Heel 22.0  mm.  (.88  inch) 

Back  of  hand 30.8  mm.  (1.23  inches) 

Forearm 39.6  mm.  (1.58  inches) 

Sternum 44.0  mm.  (1.76  inches) 

Back  of  neck 52.8  mm.  (2.11  inches) 

Middle  of  back  66.0  mm.  (2.64  inches) 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  35 

The  explanation  of  Weber's  sensory  circles  has  given  rise  to 
much  discussion.  lie  himself  held  that  each  circle  is  supplied  by 
one  nerve-fibre.  Other  experiments  have  shown  that  pressure-spots 
are  recognizable  within  a  circle.  George  T.  Ladd  (1842-  ),  an 
American  psychologist,  concludes,  "The  sensations  produced  by 
laying  a  single  blunted  divider's  point  upon  the  skin,  are  really  very 
complex,  and  are  composed  of  the  sensations  from  several  pressure- 
spots  blended  with  other  sensations  from  the  rest  of  the  same  area 
not  covered  by  the  pressure-spots.  The  fineness  of  the  discrimina- 
tion possible  in  any  area  of  the  skin  depends,  then,  upon  how  all  the 
points  irritated  stand  relateci  to  the  specific  pressure-spots."^ 

The  Greek  philosopher,  Democritus  (B.C.  460-357),  taught  that 
touch  is  the  primary  and  original  sense,  out  of  which  the  other 
senses  are  developed.  There  is  much  to  render  this  idea  probable. 
The  lowest  forms  of  nervous  organism  respond  only  to  the  stimuli  of 
direct  contact.  Some  of  these  lower  forms  are  thought  to  respond 
to  differences  of  color,  which  are  probably  not  known  as  such,  but 
still  are  felt  as  different.  Touch  always  remains  the  test  sense  to 
which  we  resort  in  cases  of  doubt.  We  recognize  the  ease  with 
which  the  ear  and  the  eye  are  deceived,  but  feel  confident  of  the  real 
presence  of  an  object  when  we  can  touch  it  and  of  its  illusory  char- 
acter wlieii  we  cannot. 

(2)  Smell. — The  organ  of  the  olfactory  sense  is  the 
nostrils,  which  afford  a  surface  covered  by  a  sensitive  mu- 
cous membrane  for  the  reception  of  odorous  paTticles  (see 
Figure  11).  Smell  is  believed  to  be  excited  only  by  con- 
tact with  a  gaseous  substance.  The  sensations  are  local- 
ized in  the  nose  and  are  referred  to  its  interior  surface. 
They  are  commonly  named  from  the  names  of  the  objects 
that  excite  them. 

"  The  amount  of  a  substance  which  w^e  are  enabled  to  recognize 
by  the  organ  of  smell  is  extraordinarily  smtUl.  The  merest  trace,  in 
a  gaseous  form,  of  a  drop  of  oil  of  roses  is  all  that  is  necessary  to 
produce  in  our  nostrils  the  impression  of  a  pleasant  odor.  The 
smallest  particle  of  musk  is  sufficient  to  impart  its  characteristic 
smell  to  the  clothes,  for  years,  the  strongest  current  of  air  being  in* 


36  PSYCHOLOGY. 

sufficient  to  drive  it  away ;  and  Valentin  has  calculated  that  we  ai** 
able  to  perceive  about  the  three  one-millionth  of  a  grain  of  musk. 
The  delicacy  of  our  sense  of  smell  surpasses  that  of  the  other  senses. 
The  minute  particles  of  a  substance  which  we  perceive  by  smell, 
would  be  quite  imperceptible  to  our  taste,  and  if  they  were  in  a  solid 
form,  we  should  never  be  able  to  feel  them,  nor  to  see  them,  even  if 
illuminated  by  the  strongest  sunlight.  Xo  chemical  reaction  can 
detect  such  minute  particles  of  substance  as  those  which  we  perceive 
by  our  sense  of  smell,  and  even  spectrum  analysis,  which  can  recog- 
nize fifteen  millionths  of  a  grain,  is  far  surpassed  in  delicacy  by  our 
organ  of  smell. 

"  The  development  of  the  sense  of  smel!  is  even  more  astonish- 
ing in  animals  than  it  is  in  man,  and  plays  a  very  important  part 
in  their  organization.  Hounds  will  recognize  by  smell  the  trace  of 
an  animal  perfectly  imperceptible  to  sight.  But  the  acuteness  of 
their  sense  of  smell  is  far  surpassed  by  that  of  the  animal  pursued, 
which  is  able,  when  the  wind  is  in  a  favorable  direction,  to  scent  the 
huntsman  at  a  distance  of  several  miles."  ^^ 

(3)  Taste. — The  organs  of  taste  are  the  tongue,  the 
palate,  and  a  portion  of  the  pharynx  (see  Figure  2).  These 
organs  contain  minute  terminal  taste  buds  (see  Figure  12), 
which  are  distributed  with  varying  degrees  of  closeness  to 
one  another  near  their  surfaces.  The  tongue  and  other 
parts  serving  as  organs  of  taste  are  also  organs  of  touch. 
Substances  must  be  in  liquid  form,  in  order  to  be  tasted. 
We  generally  name  tastes,  as  we  do  smells,  from  the  ob- 
jects that  furnish  them.  We  localize  sensations  of  taste 
in  the  mouth  and  so  attribute  to  them  extension  in  space. 

*'  The  sensitiveness  of  our  gustatory  organs  for  certain  sub- 
stances is  very  considerable,  but  not  to  be  compared  to  that  of  smell. 
We  can  recognize  by  taste  a  solution  of  one  part  of  sulphuric  acid  in 
1,000  of  water.  A  drop  placed  upon  the  tongue  would  contain  about 
one  two-thousandth  of  a  gramme  (three  four-hundredths  of  a  grain) 
of  sulphuric  acid,  an  infinitesimally  small  quantity,  the  detection  of 
which  by  chemical  analysis  would  be  difficult."  ^* 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  37 

(4)  Hearing. — The  organ  of  the  auditory  sense  is  the 
ear,  inchuling  the  corrugated  receptacle  of  the  external 
ear  and  the  vibrating  tympanum,  series  of  j^ercussive 
t>ones  and  undulating  liquid  of  the  inner  ear  (see  Figure 
13).  Sensations  of  sound  are  very  numerous  and  are  at- 
tended with  perceptions  of  position  and  distance.  These, 
however,  are  not  immediately  given  with  exactness,  but 
are  determined  by  experience  and  afford  a  large  oppor- 
tunity for  error.  Sensations  of  sound  are  the  basis  of 
music  and  of  articulate  speech,  which  last  is  a  human 
characteristic. 

Closely  connected  with  the  phenomena  of  sound  are  the  rods  of 
Corti,  so  called  from  the  name  of  their  discoverer  (see  Figure  14). 
They  are  situated  in  the  coil  of  the  cochlea  (see  Figure  13).  They 
number  about  3,000.  The  rods,  or  fibres,  are  not  of  uniform  size  or 
shape,  and  they  remind  one  of  the  strings  of  a  piano.  The  cochlea 
is  thus  provided  with  a  "  sympathetic  vibratory  apparatus  for  the 
perception  of  musical  sensation,"  each  fibre  transmitting  its  peculiar 
tone.  It  is  probably  through  this  delicate  organ  of  Corti  that  we  are 
able  to  distinguish  the  fine  shades  of  musical  tone. 

(5)  Sight. — The  organ  of  the  visual  sense  is  the  eye 
(see  Figure  15).  The  image  of  the  object  seen  is  thrown 
upon  the  retina  (see  Figure  15,  rr),  but  vision  does  not 
take  place  there.  There  are  tivo  images,  one  in  each  eye, 
and  they  are  inverted,  which  starts  the  question,  How  do 
we  see  one  object  and  see  it  iqn'ight?  Impressions  are 
supposed  to  be  conveyed  through  the  intricate  mechanism 
of  the  retina  (see  Figure,  16)  and  the  optic  nerve  of  each 
eye  (see  Figure  15,  16,  and  Figure  17,  n),  the  optic  nerves 
crossing  in  the  commisure  (see  Figure  17,  oc)  and  con- 
tinuing to  the  brain,  where  perception  takes  2:>lace.  The 
object  of  vision  has  the  following  characteristics  : 


38  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(a)  It  is  exT ended ; 

(h)   It  lias  only  superficial  extension  ; 

[c)   It  is  colored  {i.  e.,  shaded)^  often  variegated. 

That  the  image  should  appear  extended  is  not  difficult  to  account 
'or,  because  the  impressions  are  probably  delivered  to  the  brain  side 
by  side,  and  so  really  extended,  although  in  an  area  much  smaller 
than  the  image  on  the  retina.  That  the  mode  of  extension  is  in  two 
dimensions,  or  only  superficial,  instead  of  in  three  dimensions,  or 
having  depth  as  well  as  area,  is  regarded  as  certain  from  experiments 
made  on  those  restored  from  blindness.  The  English  physician, 
Cheselden  (1688-1752),  gave  sight  to  a  young  patient  of  twenty 
years  by  an  operation  for  cataract.  The  moment  the  patient  saw, 
everything  appeared  to  him  upon  a  plane  surface.  His  subsequent 
experiences,  and  those  of  other  patiefiits,  shew  that  the  idea  of  depth, 
or  of  the  third  dimension  in  space,  is  derived  by  experience  with  the 
aid  of  movement  and  the  sense  of  touch.  Binocular  vision,  or  vision 
with  two  eyes,  is  sometimes  appealed  to,  to  show  that  we  know  depth 
by  sight  alone,  but  the  stereoscopic  pictures,  which  give  the  same 
result  as  binocular  vision  oi  natural  objects,  are  upon  a  perfectly 
plane  surface. 

There  has  been  much  speculation  upon  the  cause  of  color  in  our 
optical  experience.  The  following  is  the  Young-Helmholtz  theory, 
so  called  because  invented  by  Thomas  Young  (1773-1829),  an  Eng- 
lish physicist,  and  developed  by  the  German  physicist,  Kelmhoitz. 
It  may  be  stated  as  follows  :  "  Let  us  suppose,  for  example,  a  nerv^e- 
fibre  to  terminate  in  a  cone  (see  Figure  16,  rod  and  cone  layer,  9) 
which,  through  its  physical  or  chemical  constitution,  is  only  affected 
by  red  rays  of  light  ;  then  this  nerve-fibre  will  transmit  the  irrita- 
tion to  the  brain,  and  the  brain  thus  receives  an  intimation  that  the 
impression  has  been  made  by  a  certain  kind  of  light,  which  is  recog- 
nized as  red.  Let  us  also  suppose  the  same  cone  to  be  connected 
with  another  nerve-fibre,  the  end  of  which  can  be  irritated  only  by  a 
green  ray,  then  the  brain,  if  the  irritation  of  this  nerve-fibre  has 
been  conveyed  to  it,  becomes  conscious  of  the  presence  of  a  different 
kind  of  light,  which,  from  experience,  it  will  call  green.  We  can 
thus  picture  to  ourselves  the  existence  of  several  kinds  of  nerve- 
fibres  in  the  optic  nerve,  which  differ  from  each  other  only  in  their 
terminal  organs  within  the  rods  and  cones,  each  of  which  can  be 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  39 

irritated  by  a  particular  kind  of  light  alone.  At  first  it  would  be 
supposed  that  a  vast  number  of  fibres  must  exist  in  a  sensitive  ele- 
ment of  the  retina. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  temptation  to  claim  for  every  color  in  the 
spectrum  a  separate  nerve-filn-e  ;  but  it  is  quite  sufficient  if  we  reduce 
the  number  of  fibres  to  three,  in  accordance  with  the  number  of 
primary  colors,  red,  green,  and  violet.  In  fact,  all  the  phenomena 
of  the  sensation  of  color  may  be  perfectly  explained  on  the  supposi- 
tion that,  in  each  point  of  the  retina,  three  kinds  of  nerve-fibres 
terminate,  one  of  which  is  sensitive  to  red,  another  to  green,  and  the 
third  to  violet.'"  "^^ 

Kow  suppose  that  the  fibres  sensitive  to  red  are  without  the 
peculiar  quality  that  renders  them  sensitive.  Then  the  person  in 
whose  eye  there  is  this  deficiency  will  be  blind  to  this  color  and  we 
have  a  ease  of  color-blindness,  lately  proved  to  be  very  common, 
almost  one  in  twenty  persons  showing  an  incapacity  to  distinguisk 
red  colors  distinctly.  What  looks  to  others  white,  must  to  them 
have  a  greenish-blue  appearance.  There  are  degrees  of  color-blind- 
ness, an  incapacity  for  shades  of  the  color.  This  peculiarity  is  called 
also  Daltonism  from  the  name  of  the  English  chemist,  John  Dalton 
(1 760-1844),  who  discovered  Ihe  existence  of  color-blindness  by  find- 
hig  in  himself  an  incapacity  to  distinguish  the  red  coats  of  soldiers 
on  parade  from  the  green  -^olor  of  the  grass. 

8.  The  Knowled^re  Obtained  by  the  Special  Senses- 
Having  reviewed  tlie  various  special  senses  and  con- 
eidered  tlie  organs  through  which  knowledge  is  furnished, 
we  now  need,  to  inquire  what  knowledge  is  furnished  by 
them.  Let  us,  then,  apply  our  sense-organs  to  some 
simple  object,  an  orange^  for  example. 

(1)  By  Touch  we  know  the  orange  to  possess  (a)  resist- 
ance in  a  degree  which  we  name  hardness  or  softness; 
(h)  surface,  which  we  characterize  as  rough  or  smooth; 
and  (c)  extensio7i,  which  by  movement  we  learn  to  be  in 
three  dimensions,  and  describe  as  spherical. 

(2)  By  Smell  we  obtain  a  pleasant  and  pungent  odor, 


40  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  from  this  sense  we  can  derive  no  other  knowledge; 
except  the  distribution  of  this  odor  in  space,  it  being 
more  or  less  intense  as  we  bring  the  orange  near  or  re- 
move it  from  us. 

(3)  By  Taste  we  derive  two  forms  of  knowledge  :  (a) 
the  flavor  of  the  orange,  which  is  the  appropriate  pres- 
entation of  Taste ;  and  (b)  toycJi,  which  is  not  special  to 
this  sense  and  has  been  considered  above. 

(4)  By  Hearing  we  can  obtain  various  sounds,  as  the 
orange  is  variously  struck  or  allowed  to  fall  from  different 
heights,  and  we  can,  in  part,  locate  the  orange  by  the 
sounds. 

(5)  Finally,  by  Sight  we  perceive  colored  extension,  but 
the  presentation  does  not  agree  with  that  of  Touch  ;  for 
the  orange  does  not  present  a  sphere,  but  a  circle,  to  the 
eye.  We  correct  this  by  taking  a  new  point  of  viev/  and 
the  disagreement  is  then  resolved  into  agreement.  We 
ilistinguish  also  by  Sight  contrasts  of  color,  as  light  and 
shade.  Size  is  perceived,  but  it  is  merely  relative,  and  to 
know  it  positively  we  must  also  know  the  distance  of  th*^. 
object  from  the  observer. 

When  we  consider  that  all  sense-impressions  are  simply  move- 
ments of  matter  in  space,  and  that  the  nervous  org-anism  is  itself 
simply  an  aggregate  of  material  molecules,  and  then  contrast  with 
these  the  knowledge  acquired  through  Sense-perception,  it  is  evident 
that  there  is  between  sense-impression  and  sense-knowledge  a 
great  interval.  This  has  been  generally  recognized  by  the  greatest 
thinkers.  The  English  physicist,  John  Tyndall  (1820-  ),  says  : 
"  The  passage  from  the  physics  of  the  Ijrain  to  the  corresponding 
facts  of  consciousness  is  unthinlcahJe.''''  ^^  The  English  anatomist  and 
biologist,  Thomas  Henry  Huxley  (1825-  ),  observes  :  "  How  it  is 
that  anything  so  remarkable  as  a  state  of  consciousness  comes  about 
by  the  result  of  irritating  nervous  tissue,  is  just  as  unaccountable  as 
the  appearance  of  the  Djin  when  Aladdin  rubbed  his  lamp."  ^*    The 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  41 

German  physiologist,  Du-Bois  Reymond  (1818-  ),  says:  "If  we 
possessed  an  absolutely  perfect  knowledge  of  the  body,  including  the 
brain  and  all  changes  in  it,  the  psychical  state  known  as  sensation 
would  be  as  incomprehensible  as  now.  For  the  very  highest  knowl- 
edge we  could  get  would  reveal  to  us  only  matter  in  motion,  and  the 
connection  between  any  motions  of  any  atoms  in  my  brain,  and  such 
unique,  undeniable  facts  as  that  I  feel  pain,  smell  a  rose,  or  see  red, 
is  thoroughly  incomprehensible."  ^^ 

9.  What  do  we  Perceive? 

Sense-perception  affords  ns  (1)  separate  and  different 
<?ensations,  (2)  conditioned  upon  physiological  stimuli 
within  the  organism  and  physical  stimuli  outside  of  the 
organism.  The  sensations  themselves  are  not  the  object 
of  perception^  but  something  beyond  them  is.  Sensations 
Hre  psychical  facts^  subjective,  evanescent,  and  successive. 
Objects  perceived  are  physical  realities,  objective,  per- 
manent, and  co-existent  in  space.  If  the  sensor  nerves  of 
any  special  sense  are  cut,  we  can  perceive  notliing  beyond 
the  point  of  section.  If  these  nerves  are  excited  at  an;- 
point  between  their  termini  in  the  sense-organ  and  theii 
termini  in  the  brain,  we  do  perceive  something.  This 
proves  that  perception  occurs  in  the  brain.  What  do  we 
perceive  in  the  brain  ?  A  series  of  changes  in  the  nervou? 
organism,  which  we  refer  to  permanent  causes  outside  of 
the  organism .  In  order  that  Sense-perception  shall  occur, 
two  conditions  must  be  fulfilled  :  (1)  something  in  the 
brain  must  react  on  the  sense-impressions ;  and  (2)  some- 
thing in  the  brain  must  refer  these  impressions  to  external 
space,  or  project  them  outward  and  unify  them.  -With 
regard  to  the  certainty  of  our  knowledge  of  what  we  per- 
ceive, it  must  be  said  that  we  have  an  immediate  knowl- 
edge of  the  non-Ego  as  shown  in  the  Primary  Affirma- 


42  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tion  of  Co-existence.      The  doctrine  here  maintained  is 
known  as  Dualistic  Realism. 

Many  philosophers  have  distinguished  between  what  they  call  the 
Primary  and  the  Secondary  Qualities  of  Matter,  or  of  bodies.  This 
is  a  mental  distinction  based  on  what  is  universal  and  what  is  only 
occasional  in  our  experience  of  bodies.  The  primary  qualities  are 
those  which  are  universal,  as  resistance  and  extension.  The  second- 
ary qualities  are  those  afEecting  the  particular  senses  in  varying 
ways,  as  smell,  taste,  sound,  and  color.  The  distinctions  are  very 
elaborately  treated  by  Hamilton,  from  an  historical  point  of  view,  in 
his  "Lectures  on  Metaphysics,"  pp.  342,  347. 

10.  ^Vliat  is  It  that  Perceives? 

We  have  seen  that,  in  order  that  Sense-perception  shall 
occur,  two  conditions  must  be  fulfilled  :  (1)  Something  in 
the  brain  must  react  on  the  sense-impressions ;  and  (2) 
something  in  the  brain  must  refer  these  impressions  to  ex- 
ternal space  and  unify  them.  Consciousness  discloses  to 
as  what  it  is  that  does  this.  It  is  the  conscious  self.  / 
feel  sensations  and  distinguish  between  the  successive 
changes  in  the  nervous  organism.  /  react  on  the  brain, 
and  when  I  do  not  thus  consciously  react,  as  in  sleep  or 
swoon  or  during  a  moment  of  absorption  in  other  things, 
there  is  no  sensation  and  there  is  no  perception  of  the  im- 
pressions not  reacted  upon,  /also  project  impressions  in 
space,  or  assign  them  locality.  I  consciously  judge  of  the 
distance  of  a  horse  in  a  field  or  of  the  direction  of  a  voice 
calling.  Sense-knowledge,  then,  is  not  a  product  of  or- 
ganic action,  but  of  physical  and  physiological  stimula= 
tion  accompanied  ivith  'psijcliical  reactio7i.  This  reaction 
is,  to  consciousness,  interpretation,  and,  accordingly,  we 
continue  our  discussion  of  Sense-perception  in  the  next 
Section  on  ^'  Sense-interpretation.^^ 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  43 

For  illustration  of  this  topic,  let  iis  recur  to  our  experiment  with 
the  orange.  Each  of  tlio  five  senses  furnished  us  with  distinct 
classes  of  impressions,  which  we  were  obliged  to  refer  to  causes 
acting  outside  of  ourselves  and  located  in  or  upon  the  body  with 
which  we  were  experimenting,  the  orange.  Without  the  reaction  of 
our  Sensibility  upon  the  orange,  we  should  have  felt  nothing.  With- 
out the  reaction  of  our  Intellect  upon  the  orange,  we  should  have 
known  nothing.  The  sensations  we  derived  from  it  had  to  be  inter- 
preted and  unified,  before  we  had  any  idea  of  an  object  possessing 
such  qualities  as  we  discovered  in  the  orange.  This  interpreta- 
tion and  unification  were  not  mere  movements  of  matter  or  mere 
organic  processes,  but  conscious  steps  of  knowing  initiated,  eon- 
ducted,  and  completed  by  ourselves  for  a  purpose. 

Ill  this  section,    on   ^'  Sense-perception,"   we   have 
considered  :^ 

1,  Sense-perception  Defined, 

2,  The  Two  Elements  of  Sense-perception* 

3,  The  Conditions  of  S€nse-2}erception, 

4,  Abnornifil  Excitation, 

5,  Definition  of  a  Sense  and  a  Sense-organ, 

6,  Classification  of  the  Senses, 

7,  The  Special  Senses, 

8,  The  Knoivledoe  Obtained  hy  the  Special  Senses, 

9,  iniat  Do  We  Perceive? 
10,    What  is  It  that  Perceives? 

References  :  (1)  Hamilton's  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  p.  336. 
(2)  Lewes'  Problems  of  Life  and  3Ii7id,  Second  Series,  p.  556.  (3) 
Mind,  April,  1882,  p.  300.  (4)  Id.,  p.  301.  (5)  Lewes'  Froblems  of 
Life  and  Mind,  Third  Series,  pp.  254,  255.  (6)  See  Reports  of  the 
Proceedings  of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  published  by 
Triibner  &  Co.,  Ludgate  Hill,  London.  (7)  Lewes'  Problems  of  Life 
and  Mind,  Second  Series,  p.  210.  (8)  Lotze's  Outlines  of  Psychology 
(translated  by  George  T.  Ladd),  pp.  22,  23.  (9)  Ladd's  Physiological 
Psychology,  p.  410.  (10)  Bernstein's  Five  Senses  of  Man,  pp.  289, 
290.  (11)  Id.,  p.  301.  (12)  Id.,  pp.  Ill,  112.  (13)  Tyndall's  Frag- 
me7its  of  Science,  p.  121.  (14)  Huxley's  Lay  Sermons.  (15)  Du-Bois 
Reymond's  Lecture  on  The  Limits  of  the  Knoivledge  of  Nature. 


44  PSYCHOLOGY. 

SEICTION   in. 

SENSE- INTERPRETATION. 

1,  The  Double  Character  of  Sense-perception. 

We  have  seen  that  the  simplest  act  of  Sense-perception 
involves  the  co-operation  of  the  sensory  mechanism  and 
the  knowing  self;  i,  e.,  without  the  sensory  mechanism, 
there  would  be  nothing  perceptible ;  and  without  the 
knowing  self,  nothing  would  be  j^erceived.  Much  of  our 
knowdedge  derived  through  Sense-perception  is  the  result 
of  interpretation.  The  imj)ortance  of  Sense-interpretation 
can  be  better  realized  after  we  have  considered  the  de- 
velopment of  the  senses,  the  acquired  perceptions,  the 
localization  of  sensations,  illusions  and  the  organization  of 
sense-knowledge,  to  which  we  now  proceed. 

2.   The  Development  of  the  Senses. 

The  lower  animals  are  born  with  an  almost  complete 
adaptation  for  the  performance  of  their  life  functions. 
The  colt  stands  and  walks  when  only  a  few  hours  old.  At 
the  age  of  three,  he  can  do  almost  all  he  can  evei-  do  in  his 
life-time.  It  is  not  so  with  a  human  infant.  For  years 
it  is  absolutely  dependent  on  others  for  the  continuance  of 
its  existence,  ^o  living  creature  is  more  ignorant,  more 
defenseless,  more  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  beings  other 
than  itself.  Destined  for  the  highest  attainments  of  in- 
telligence, the  infant  possesses  the  least  of  automatic 
adaptation  to  the  conditions  of  life.  Everything  has  to 
be  learned  from  the  beginning.     Instinct  is  at  the  mini- 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  45 

miim^  Intellect,  undeveloped  but  potential,  is  at  the 
maximum.  Almost  everything  done  by  the  child  is  done 
by  conscious  psychical  reaction,  not  mechanically.  Let  us 
notice  more  particularly  (1)  the  order  and  (2)  the  mock  of 
development. 

(1)  The  Order  of  Development. — The  sense  of  touch 
is  the  earliest  developed.  The  organization  of  tactual 
sensations  into  an  intelligible  system  comes  later.  Hear- 
ing comes  into  j^lay  very  early,  so  that  a  child  may  be 
frightened  by  loud  or  sudden  noises.  At  first  tastes  and 
smells  are  not  distinguished.  Perceptive  vision  does  not 
occur  till  the  eye  has  formed  the  field  of  view. 

Ill  1863,  a  German  observer,  Thierri  Tiedemann,  made  careful 
observations  on  one  of  his  children,  from  its  birth,  for  scientific 
purposes.  This  cliild  rejected  medicines  on  account  of  the  taste  ai 
the  age  of  thirteen  days  and  at  the  same  time  knew  its  nourishment 
by  smell.  The  child,  which  was  not  considered  precocious,  knew 
tn"  dii-ection  of  sounds  at  four  months  and  ten  days.  At  seven 
months,  he  imitated  words  without  knowing  their  meaning.  At  six- 
teen months,  he  pronounced  some  words  accurately  and  knew  their 
significance.  The  child  was  able  to  fix  his  eyes  attentively  at  two 
weeks  from  his  birth,  showing  some  power  of  distinguishing  objects. 
In  the  second  month  he  smiled  at  certain  actions  and  toward  the 
close  of  the  month  would  regard  one  thing  with  prolonged  attention. 
By  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  month,  he  could  distinguish  some 
objects  in  engravings.^ 

(2)  The  Mode  of  Development. — We  confine  ourselves 
to  vision  and  touch.  Sensations  of  light  in  the  eye  are 
experienced  at  an  early  age.  Vision  proper  begins,  how- 
ever, only  when  the  eye  is  attentively  fixed  upon  particu- 
lar points,  which  are  attractive  by  their  brightness.  Then 
lines  and  colors  are  discriminated  and  objects  begin  to 
take  shape  in  the  field  of  view.     These  are  all  seen  at  first 


46  PSYCHOLOGY. 

on  a  joerfectly  flat  surface  and  the  idea  of  perspective  is  of 
later  growth.  This  is  proved  by  experiments  with  the 
blind  when  they  are  restored  to  sight  and  with  young 
children.  The  dis]30sition  of  objects  in  their  true  relations 
in  space  is  acquired  by  the  consentient  movement  of  the 
hand  with  the  eye^  whereby  the  presentations  of  sight  are 
correlated  with  those  of  touch,  and  so  the  idea  of  perspec- 
tive is  established.  There  are  three  processes  in  learning 
space-relations  by  touch.  They  are  as  follows  :  {a)  One's 
body  is  hnoicn  as  bounded  ly  a  limitmg  surface,  as  when 
one  is  surrounded  by  cold  or  heated  air  or  water ;  (^)  tlie 
body  and  ivliat  is  not  body  are  'known  as  different,  as  when 
the  hand  is  first  applied  to  the  body  and  then  to  something 
else,  the  first  contact  giving  the  sensations  of  touching 
and  being  touched  and  the  second  of  touching  only  ;  and 
(c)  by  grasping  objects  tliey  are  knoiun  as  occuinjing  space, 
as  when  one  grasps  his  wrist,  finding  a  group  of  sensations 
ivitliin  sensations,  and  then  grasps  a  piece  of  wood,  find- 
ing something  7iot  sensitive  occupying  the  space  where  the 
group  of  sensations  was. 

The  following  anecdote  is  related  of  a  boy  of  twelve,  cne  of 
Cheselden's  patients,  from  whom  he  had  removed  a  cataract.  He 
knew  very  well  the  dog  and  the  cat  by  feeling,  but  could  not  tell 
which  was  cat  and  which  was  dog,  when  he  saw  them.  One  day, 
when  thus  confused,  he  took  the  cat  in  his  arms,  and  feeling  her 
carefully  so  as  to  connect  his  sensations  of  touch  with  those  of 
sight,  he  set  her  down  saying,  ' '  So  puss,  I  shall  know  you  another 
time."  2  William  James  (1842-  ),  an  American  psychologist, 
thinks  sight  can  be  developed  without  the  aid  of  touch,  and  in- 
stances an  Esthonian  girl,  Eva  Lauk,  14  years  old,  born  without 
arras  or  legs,  who  "came  as  quickly  to  a  right  judgment  of  the 
size  and  distance  of  visible  objects  as  her  brothers  and  sisters, 
although  she  had  no  use  of  hands,"  ^ 


PBESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  47 

3.  Two  Classes  of  Sense-perceptions. 

If  I  see  and  feel  a  piece  of  red-hot  iron,  I  know  by  the 
sense  of  sight  that  it  is  red  and  by  the  sense  of  touch 
that  it  is  hot.  Each  of  these  perceptions  may  be  called 
original.  After  this  experience,  I  know  from  the  sight  of 
the  iron  that  it  is  hot,  and  when  I  see  iron  heated  to  red- 
ness, I  say,  ^''It  looks  hot/''  This  is  an  acquired  percep- 
tion, because  the  idea  of  heat  is  not  an  original  deliver- 
ance of  the  sense  of  sight,  but  is  derived  from  the  j)sychica^ 
combination  of  the  perception  of  sight  with  that  of  touch. 

An  original  perception  is  one  that  is  obtained  from  a 
single  sense  when  exercised  alone ;  and  an  acquired  per- 
ception is  one  that  is  obtained  by  using  the  knowledge 
given  by  one  sense  as  a  sign  of  knowledge  which  might  be 
gained  by  another. 

The  economy  of  time  and  effort  in  the  use  of  sense-signs  is  verj 
great.  Thus,  a  barrel  is  known  by  the  sound  to  be  empty,  an  engi- 
neer knows  the  weakness  of  a  bridge  by  the  color  of  the  timbers,  a 
physician  knows  the  condition  of  tho  heart  and  lungs  by  the  sound 
in  the  stethoscope.  Such  signs  are  often  obtainable  where  more  di- 
rect information  is  impossible,  and  furnish  as  trustworthy  grounds 
of  inference  as  the  facts  of  original  perception. 

4.  Acqviired  Sense-perceptions. 

(1)  Of  Touch. — These  are  of  the  highest  value.  They 
enable  the  infant  to  distinguish  injurious  from  harmless 
objects.  To  the  skilled  artisan,  they  are  a  kind  of  me- 
chanical conscience,  intimating  to  him  a  thousand  facts  of 
utmost  importance.  The  quality  of  his  nuiterials,  the  sliarji' 
uess  of  his  tools  and  the  amount  of  power  to  be  applied  to 
them,  are  more  or  less  clearly  indicated  by  these  perceptions, 


48  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2)  Of  Smell. — AVe  identify  objects  by  the  odor  the^i 
emit.  Thus  a  rose  or  a  lily  is  distinguished  by  the  smell 
and  we  affirm  its  presence  with  confidence.  The  ability  to 
do  this  depends  ujoon  our  frequent  association  of  the  pe- 
culiar odor  with  a  certain  assemblage  of  qualities  which 
we  call  a  ^^rose.'^  We  are  deceived  when  the  quality 
which  we  have  always  known  only  in  certain  connections 
is  presented  to  us  isolated  from  its  usual  accompaniments. 

(3)  Of  Taste. — What  is  true  of  Smell  is  true  also  of 
Taste.  The  professional  wine-taster  is  able  to  tell  the 
kind  and  age  of  wine  by  the  taste  alone  and  sometimes 
attains  such  delicacy  of  discrimination  as  to  analyze  by 
the  taste  the  proportions  of  different  kinds  in  a  combina- 
tion. 

(4)  Of  Hearing. — These  are  exceedingly  useful.  By 
them  we  are  enabled  to  infer  with  considerable  accuracy 
the  direction  and  distance  of  objects.  Every  voice  has  its 
own  joeculiar  quality  and  we  can  frequently  recognize  per- 
sons by  their  voices.  The  waiting  wife  knows  the  sound 
of  her  husband's  footstep  and  the  expectant  host  identi- 
fies the  rap  of  his  friend  on  the  door. 

(5)  Of  Sight. — The  best  results  of  vision  are  acquired. 
The  original  perceptions  by  Sight  are  simply  extended 
colored  surfaces.  Everything  else  is  acquired,  {a)  We 
judge  of  distance  iy  size.  Given  the  magnitude,  we  can 
determine  the  distance.  If  we  are  deceived  in  the  magni- 
tude, we  fall  into  error  concerning  distance,  as  when  we 
take  a  small  boy  for  a  man  and  judge  him  to  be  farther 
off  than  he  is.  {h)  We  judge  of  magniUide  hy  distance. 
A  small  insect  is  sometimes  taken  for  a  bird,  when  it  is 
erroneously  supposed  to  be  at  a  great  distance  from  the 
observer,     (c)  We  judge  of  distance  hy  intensity  of  color 


PRESENTATIVi:  KlSfOWLEnGE.  49 

and  clearness  of  on f line.  In  looking  at  a  forest  we  notice 
that  the  nearer  trees  are  brighter  and  more  sliarply  defined 
than  tliose  more  remote.  These  differences  constitute 
what  painters  call  ^^  atmosphere/'^  by  which  they  adjust 
objects  in  the  proper  space-relations,  [d)  We  judge  of 
the  size  of  ohjeds  hy  com^mring  tliem  witli  otlier  ohjects. 
Men  standing  by  an  unusually  tall  object,  as  a  high  mon- 
ument, seem  like  children,  {e)  We  judge  of  distance  ac- 
cording as  there  are  more  or  feicer  intervening  objects . 
The  sea  without  vessels  seems  small,  but  it  seems  larger 
when  covered  with  sails.  The  moon  appears  large  when 
near  the  horizon,  because  many  terrestrial  objects  inter- 
vene ;  smaller  in  the  zenith,  because  there  is  nothing  with 
which  to  compare  it. 

In  all  these  processes  of  acquired  Sense-perception,  the 
necessity  of  a  psychical  reaction  is  evident. 

5.  The  Localization  of  Sensations. 

That  we  localize  our  sensations  in  different  parts  of  the 
body,  is  universally  admitted.  There  are,  however,  two 
theories  concerning  the  manner  in  which  this  localization 
is  accomplished.  These  are :  (1)  The  Intuitional,  and  (2) 
the  Empirical  theories. 

(1)  The  Intuitional,  op  Nativistic,  Theory  assumes  that 
space  is  intuitively  known  at  the  very  beginning  of  our 
perceptive  life.  This  theory  has  been  held  by  the  Scotch 
philosophers  generally  and  by  the  followers  of  the  great 
German  physiologist,  Miiller,  who  maintained  that  the 
spatial  order  of  sensations  has  its  basis  in  the  constitution 
of  the  organism  and  is  directly  known  by  the  soul. 

(2)  The   Empirical,   op   Genetic,   Theopy   maintains  a 


50  PSYCHOLOGY. 

psychological  evolution  of  the  idea  of  space  in  the  prog- 
ress of  sensational  experience.  The  first  hints  of  this 
doctrine  are  found  in  Locke  and  Berkeley,  and  it  has  been 
more  recently  elaborated  in  England  by  Mill  and  Spencer.^ 
The  most  complete  statement  of  the  theory  is  to  be  found 
in  the  works  of  the  German  psychologist  Lotze,  who, 
however,  does  not  deny  an  innate  psychical  power  to  form 
an  idea  of  space,  and  in  those  of  the  German  physiological 
psychologist,  W.  Wundt  (1832-  ),  who  supj^lements 
Lotze's  Theory  of  Local  Signs  with  a  factor  of  muscular 
movement. 

Lotze's  Theory  of  Local  Signs  applies  to  the  localization  of  all 
sensations,  but  we  confine  our  statements  to  the  application  of  it  to 
the  sensations  of  vision.  "The  local  sign,  that  concomitant  of  the 
sensation  of  color  which  prevents  its  losing  its  individuality,  con- 
sists in  a  system  of  movements.  To  understand  it,  let  us  suppose 
that  the  image  of  a  brilliant  point  is  formed  on  one  side  of  the 
retina  ;  at  the  same  time  a  movement  of  the  eye  takes  place,  by 
which  the  centre  of  clearest  vision  is  placed  beneath  this  image  (see 
Figure  15  for  the  distribution  of  the  retina  and  Figure  17  for  the 
motor  attachments  of  the  eye).  We  know,  in  fact,  that  there  exists 
in  the  retina  a  small  portion  at  the  centre  {fovea  centralis,  see  v  in 
Figure  15),  which  has  a  visual  sensibility  very  superior  to  any  other 
part.  We  know  also,  that,  in  virtue  of  a  physiological  contrivance, 
whose  causes  and  origin  it  is  not  here  our  business  to  investigate, 
the  excitation  of  any  point  of  the  retina  occasions  a  deviation  of  the 
axis  of  the  eye,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  point  of  clearest  vision  is 
directed  toward  the  exciting  object.  This  understood,  let  us  call 
this  point  of  clearest  vision  v,  and  suppose  that  three  other  points  of 
the  retina,  a,  h,  and  c  are  excited  (see  Figure  15).  The  image 
formed  at  a  will  give  rise  to  a  certain  movement,  necessary  to  pro- 
duce the  image  at  v.  The  image  formed  at  b  will  give  rise  to  a 
movement  different  from  av.  The  image  formed  at  c  will  give  rise 
to  a  movement  different  from  av  and  vh.  Whatever  positions  we 
assign  to  a,  b,  c,  it  is  easy  to  see  that,  in  any  case,  the  movements 
will  not  be  identical,  that  each  will  have  a  character  peculiar  to 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  51 

itself.  Indeed,  if  we  suppose  that  a,  h,  and  c  are  situated  in  the 
same  line,  or  rather,  in  the  same  circular  arc,  the  segments  va,  vh,  vc, 
of  this  arc  must  have  different  magnitudes,  and,  as  the  eye  must 
pass  over  them  to  bring  in  turn  the  images  a,  h,  c,  in  the  direction 
of  clearest  vision,  there  will  necessarily  arise  muscular  movements 
that  are  different  in  magnitude,  though  analogous  in  other  respects. 
If  we  suppose  a,  h,  c  to  be  situated  on  the  circumference  of  the  same 
circle  whose  centre  is  v,  then  vh,  va,  vc,  will  be  equal,  but  in  differ- 
ent directions.  Finally,  if  we  suppose  that  a,  b,  and  c  are  situated 
neither  on  the  same  line  from  v,  nor  on  the  same  circumference 
whose  centre  is  v,  then  va,  vh,  vc,  will  be  at  the  same  time  unequal 
in  magnitude  and  in  different  directions.  If  we  designate  the  sum 
of  all  these  movements  by  S,  this  sum  is  for  each  point  of  the  retina 
an  unchangeable  and  definite  combination,  and  so  we  believe  that  we 
iiave  in  it  a  local  sign  that  differences  the  excitation  at  each  point 
from  the  excitation  at  any  other."  ^  The  arrangement  of  sensations 
in  a  spatial  order  is  supposed  to  result  from  a  discrimination  of  local 
signs.  Lotze  held  this  theory  simply  as  an  hypothesis.  "  The 
most  recent  of  the  genetic  theories  is  that  of  Wundt.  He  accepts 
the  theory  of  local  signs,  but  judges  it  insufficient  ;  for  how  can  a 
graduated  series  of  qualitative  local  signs  be  transformed  into  an 
order  of  space  ?  Lotze  explains  this  only  by  admitting  the  presence 
of  a  priori  laws  of  mind.  But,  says  Wundt,  the  different  impres- 
sions are  accompanied  by  movement,  and  thence  results  a  feeling  of 
innervation.  These  two  elements — local  signs  and  movement,  with 
accompanying  sensations — explain  localization  in  space."  ^  As  Lotze 
really  derives  the  idea  of  space  from  the  laws  of  mind,  so  Wundt 
implicates  it  in  his  element  of  movement, — already  really  included 
by  Lotze, — which  is  impossible  without  space.  While  these  genetic 
hypotheses  may  serve  to  show  how  a  knowledge  of  actual  positions  is 
acquired  by  the  soul,  they  do  not  remove  our  belief  in  the  soul's 
original  power  of  space-intuition.  Extension,  or  space-occupancy, 
seems  to  be  a  datum  in  every  actual  experience  of  Sense- 
perception. 

6.  Tlie  Illusions  of  Sense-perception. 

It  is  natural  for  one  to  believe  in  the  presentations  of 
his  senses.     On  this  very  account  one  is  liable  to  be  dc' 


52  PSYCnOLOGY. 

ceived  by  tliem.  A  knowledge  of  the  fact  and  of  the 
sources  of  sense-ilhision  diminishes  the  probability  that  an 
observer  will  be  deceived.  The  sources  of  sense-illusion 
are  three  :  (1)  The  environment,  which  may  present  false 
appearances ;  (3)  the  organism,  which  may  be  abnormally 
excited  or  internally  deranged  ;  and  (3)  expectation,  which 
may  lead  to  beliefs  not  justified  by  facts. 

(1)  Illusions  produced  by  the  environment  originate  in 
some  presentation  to  the  sense-organs  that  would  not  be  a 
source  of  illusion,  if  properly  interpreted.  Thus,  a  stick 
half  immersed  in  water  seems  bent.  This  is  because  the 
light  reflected  from  the  stick  is  refracted  unequally  by  the 
water  and  by  the  air.  To  one  ignorant  of  the  fact  of  re- 
fraction, the  illusion  is  complete  ;  but,  as  soon  as  this  fact 
is  taken  into  account,  the  illusion  is  dispelled.  Certain 
figures  are  illusory,  because  their  parts  are  capable  of  a 
double  interpretation,  according  as  they  are  mentally  com- 
bined (see  Figure  18).  Art  is  prolific  in  illusions,  pre- 
senting certain  signs  which  indicate  realities.  The  whole 
effect  of  perspective  in  painting  is  illusory,  for  while  it 
represents  depth  it  is  on  a  plane  surface.  Ghost-seeing  is 
often  nothing  more  than  the  interpretation  of  some 
ghostly  sign,  for  exam2:)le  a  white  garment,  as  indicating 
the  presence  of  a  spiritual  visitor. 

We  have  a  strong  tendency  to  interpret  the  indistinct  or  in- 
definite. Sully  says:  "This  is  illustrated  in  the  well-known 
par  time  of  discovering  familiar  forms,  such  as  those  of  human  heads 
and  animals,  in  distant  rocks  and  clouds,  and  of  seeing  pictures  in 
the  fire,  and  so  on.  The  indistinct  and  indefinite  shapes  of  the 
masses  of  rock,  cloud,  or  glowing  coal,  offer  an  excellent  field  for 
the  creative  fancy,  and  a  person  of  lively  imagination  will  discover 
endless  forms  in  what,  to  an  unimaginative  eye,  is  a  formless  waste. 
J.  Miiller  relates  that,  when  a  child,  he  used  to  spend  hours  in  dis- 


n 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  53 

covering  the  outlines  of  forms  in  the  partly  blackened  and  cracked 
stucco  of  the  house  that  stood  opposite  his  own."  ^ 

(2)  Illusions  produced  by  the  organism  are  owing  to 
unusual  excitations.  The  presentation  of  each  nerve 
comes,  in  the  course  of  time,  to  be  referred  to  a  particular 
part  of  the  body.  Thus,  the  sensation  produced  by  a 
nerve  running  from  the  middle-point  of  the  fore-fmger  of 
the  right  hand  is  referred  to  that  point.  Whenever  that 
particular  nerve  is  excited,  no  matter  wiiere  or  how,  a 
sensation  is  produced  which  is  referred  to  that  point.  If 
the  finger  is  cut  off  and  afterward  the  nerve  is  excited  at 
the  stump,  the  patient  will  affirm  that  he  feels  something 
touching  the  point  of  that  finger.  If  any  nerve  is  excited 
by  any  cause,  as,  for  example,  by  mechanical  stricture, 
chemical  action  or  inflammation,  the  person  believes  him- 
self affected  as  he  ordinarily  is  when  that  nerve  is  excited. 
Fever,  indigestion,  or  even  undue  excitement  of  a  general 
character,  may  fill  the  mind  with  illusions.  A  permanent 
derangement  of  this  kind  is  insanity,  a  temporary  one  is 
delirium.  These  may  be  of  various  degrees.  Another 
source  of  organic  illusion  is  "  after-sensation."  It  is 
noticeable  that  sensations  sometimes  persist  after  their 
cause  has  been  withdrawn.  Thus,  sounds  continue  to 
ring  in  the  ears  after  the  sound  itself  has  ceased,  and 
colors  remain  in  the  eye  after  the  eye  itself  has  been 
closed.  These  colors  often  give  place  to  their  comple= 
mentary  colors  in  an  interesting  manner. 

The  following  remarkable  example  of  organic  illusion  is  related 
by  a  high  medical  authority,  Edward  Hammond  Clarke  (1820-1877), 
a  Boston  physician:  "My  earliest  recollections  (says  a  patient  of 
Dr.  Clarke's)  are  of  a  life  made  miserable  by  the  daily  companionship 
of  a  crowd  of  dreadful  beings,  visible,  I  know   only  to  myself.    Like 


54  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Madame  de  Stael,  I  did  not  believe  in  ghosts,  but  feared  them  mor- 
tally. .  .  .  Several  years  ago,  one  of  my  sisters  was  taken  ill  with 
typhoid  fever.  I  was  not  strong  enough  to  be  of  any  assistance  in 
her  chamber,  so  I  undertook  to  finish  some  work  which  she  had 
commenced,  and  became  daily  more  and  more  worn  out  in  my  en- 
deavors to  carry  it  on.  Anxiety,  added  to  fatigue,  finally  brought 
back  the  old  visions,  which  had  not  troubled  me  continuously  for 
some  years.  Animals  of  all  kinds,  men,  women,  glaring-eyed  giants, 
passed  before  or  around  me,  until  I  felt  as  though  I  were  surrounded 
by  a  circle  of  magic  lanterns,  and  would  sometimes  place  the  back 
of  my  chair  against  a  wall,  that  at  least  my  ghosts  should  not  keep 
constantly  turning  as  they  passed  behind  me.  One  evening,  feeling 
too  tired  to  sit  up  for  the  latest  report  of  my  sister,  which  my  mother 
brought  me  regularly,  I  went  to  bed,  leaving  my  door  wide  open,  so 
that  the  gas  from  the  adjoining  entry  sent  a  stream  of  light  across 
one  half  of  my  little  chamber,  leaving  the  rest  somewhat  in  shadow. 
Soon  I  saw  my  mother  walk  slowly  into  the  room,  and  stop  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed.  I  remember  feeling  surprised  that  I  had  not  heard 
her  footsteps,  as  she  came  through  the  passage.  '  Well  ? '  I  said, 
inquiringly.  No  answer,  but  she  took,  slowly,  two  or  three  steps 
towards  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  stopped  again.  '  What  is  the 
matter  ? '  I  exclaimed.  Still  no  reply  ;  but  again  she  moved  slowly 
towards  me.  Thoroughly  frightened  by  this  ominous  silence,  I 
sprang  up  in  bed,  saying,  *  Why  don't  you  speak  to  me  ? '  Until 
then  her  back  had  been  turned  to  the  door,  but  as  I  spoke  last  she 
turned,  almost  touching  my  aim,  and  the  light  falling  on  her  face 
showed  me  an  entire  stranger.  She  had  heavy  dark  hair,  and  her 
face,  quite  young,  was  pale,  and  though  calm,  very  sad.  Over  her 
shoulders  was  a  child's  woolen  shawl,  of  a  small  plaid  not  unfamiliar 
to  me,  which  she  drew  closely  about  her  as  if  she  were  cold.  Her 
right  hand,  which  pressed  the  shawl  against  her  side,  was  very  white, 
and  I  was  struck  by  the  great  beauty  of  its  shape.  The  thought 
passed  through  my  mind,  '  Can  she  be  a  friend  of  the  nurse  ?  But 
why  has  she  been  sent  so  mysteriously  to  me  ? '  As  I  stared  at  her 
iTi  speechless  amazement,  she  fell  to  the  floor.  I  instantly  stooped 
over  the  side  of  the  bed.  To  my  consternation  there  was  nothing  to 
be  seen  !  Accustomed  as  I  was  to  ghosts,  if  there  had  been  anything 
in  the  least  shadowy  about  my  visitor,  I  should  have  suspected  her 
tangibility  ;  but  so  well  defined  was  she,  so  vividly  was  her  reality 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  55 

Impressed  upon  me,  that  I  could  not  believe  that  she  had  vanished." 
Ill  commenting  on  this  case,  which  is  but  one  of  many  equally  re- 
markable, Dr.  Clarke  says  :  ' '  This  is  evidence,  to  a  certain  extent, 
that  the  cerebral  processes  by  which  vision  is  produced  may  not  only 
be  started  in  the  brain  itself,  but  that,  when  so  started,  they  are 
identical  with  those  set  going  by  an  objective  stimulus  in  the  ordi- 
nary way."  '' 

(3)  Illusions  produced  by  expectation  are  very  common. 
Expectation  is  a  condition  of  mind  in  whicli  tlie  subject 
is  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  something  whose  image  is 
ah-eady  more  or  less  distinctly  in  his  consciousness.  This 
state  is,  substantially,  one  of  pre- perception.  As  soon  as 
anything  appears  presenting  any  of  the  qualities  of  that 
which  is  expected,  the  whole  of  what  is  expected  is  be- 
lieved to  he  at  hand.  Thus,  when  a  guest  is  expected,  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  is  the  occasion  for  an- 
nouncing his  arrival,  before  he  is  really  seen.  Some  sug- 
gestion of  a  ghostly  apparition  is  easily  derived  from  the 
wind  or  the  moon  or  other  natural  cause,  by  one  who 
expects  to  see  a  ghost,  and  the  j)icture  is  completed  in  the 
terrified  consciousness,  A  coward  is  half  beaten  before  he 
is  touched,  for  his  mind  is  filled  with  images  of  his  own 
defeat  whicli  make  him  expect  an  overthrow.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  expectation  of  victory  is  a  potent  means  of 
securing  it,  unless  it  induces  carelessness  and  under- 
estimation of  an  adversary's  powers. 

Th3  following  is  an  example  of  this  kind  of  Illusion  :  "A  lady 
was  walking  one  day  from  Penryn  to  Falmouth,  and  her  mind  being 
at  that  time,  or  recently,  occupied  by  the  subject  of  drinking- 
fountains,  she  thought  she  saw  in  the  road  a  newly-erected  fountain, 
and  even  distinguished  an  inscription  upon  it,  namely, — 

£f  aiTi?  man  tljfi'st,  let  !)fm  come  unto  me  anH  lirinft. 

Some  tima  afterwards,  she  mentioned  the  fact  with  pleasure  to  the 


56  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(huigliters  oi  a  gentleman  who  was  sii})posed  to  have  erected  it. 
Tlioy  expressed  their  surprise  at  licr  stat(;raent  and  assured  her  that 
rlie  must  be  quite  mistaken.  Perplexed  with  the  contradiction  be- 
t  wi'en  the  testimony  of  her  senses  and  of  those  who  would  have  been 
aw  are  of  the  fact  had  it  been  true,  and  believing  that  she  could  not 
have  been  deceived,  she  repaired  to  the  spot  and  found,  to  her  as- 
tonishment, that  no  drinking-fountain  was  in  existence — only  a  few 
scattered  stones,  which  had  formed  the  foundation  upon  which  the 
suggestion  of  an  expectant  imagination  had  built  the  superstruc- 
ture." ^  Another  case,  taken  from  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Demonology 
and  Witchcraft,"  records  the  experience  of  the  author  who,  soon 
after  the  death  of  Lord  Byron,  had  been  reading  an  account  of  his 
habits  and  opinions.  "Passing  from  his  sitting-room  into  the 
entrance-hall,  fitted  up  with  the  skins  of  wild  beasts,  armor,  etc.,  he 
saw,  right  before  him,  and  in  a  standing  posture,  the  exact  repre- 
sentation of  his  departed  friend,  whose  face  had  been  so  strongly 
brought  to  his  imagination.  He  stopped  for  a  single  moment  so  as 
to  notice  the  wonderful  accuracy  with  which  fancy  had  impressed 
upon  the  bodily  eye  the  peculiarities  of  dress  and  posture  of  the 
illustrious  poet.  Sensible,  however,  of  the  delusion,  he  felt  no 
sentiment  save  that  of  wonder  at  the  extraordinary  accuracy  of  the 
resemblance,  and  stepped  onwards  towards  the  figure,  which  resolved 
itself,  as  he  approached,  into  the  various  materials  of  which  it  was 
composed.  These  were  merely  a  screen  occupied  by  great-coats, 
shawls,  plaids  and  such  other  articles  as  are  usually  found  in  a 
country  entrance-hall."  ^ 


7.  Methods  of  Avoiding  Illusion. 

The  causes  of  sense-illusion  readily  suggest  the  means 
to  be  taken  to  avoid  self-deception.  The  following  rules 
seem  to  cover  the  different  cases  : 

(1)  Observe  closely,  to  avoid  being  deceived  by  ap- 
pearances. 

(2)  Compare  the  presentations  of  the  different  senses. 

(3)  Take  account  of  the  organic  condition. 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  57 

(4)  Do  not  entertain  expectations  with  such  tenacity  as 
to  prejudge  the  actual  presentatiou. 

It  is  difficult  to  avoid  mingling  inference  with  observed  facts. 

We  have  a  strong  tendency  to  create  a  theory  of  the  cause  of  an  a|)- 
pearance  at  the  same  time  that  we  observe  it.  Lawyers  find  great 
practical  difficulty  in  extracting  the  pure  truth  from  even  conscien- 
tious witnesses,  because  they  are  disposed  to  relate  as  seen  that  which 
they  have  only  inferred  as  true.  Even  scientific  observers  and 
experimenters  are  not  free  from  this  vice  of  pre-perception  and,  ac- 
cordingly, nothing  can  be  accepted  as  certainly  true  in  the  sphere  of 
sense-phenomena  unless  it  can  be  verified  repeatedly  and  by  ob- 
servers of  a  skeptical  tendency.  It  is  damaging  to  the  theories  of 
those  who  believe  in  the  earthly  return  of  departed  spirits,  that  they 
produce  their  alleged  facts  only  in  the  dark,  under  conditions  of 
mental  excitement  and  object  to  the  presence  of  skeptical  persons. 


8.  Percepts  and  Objects. 

The  presentations  of  Sense-perception  are  simple  and 
single.  They  are  isolated  fragments  of  knowledge^  not 
knowledge  in  an  ordered  system.  No  single  sense  gives 
us  our  entire  knowledge  of  any  one  object.  It  is  by  the 
union  of  these  fragments  of  knowledge  into  composite 
wholes  that  we  come  to  know  external  objects  as  individual 
things^  combining  in  themselves  their  various  qualities. 
Each  original  deliverance  of  the  senses  is  called  a  "  per- 
cept." An  object  of  knowledge^  as  known  by  us,  is  a 
group  of  such  percepts.  External  things  are  connected 
in  our  minds  and  are  believed  to  be  connected  in  reality, 
so  as  to  form  a  universe,  or  system  possessing  unity  ;  a 
cosmos,  or  inter-related  whole,  revealing  harmony  of 
action  and  subject  to  general  laws.  This  unification 
takes  place  in  consciousness  under  laws  of  mind  intui' 
tively  known. 


58  PSYCHOLOGY. 

9.   The  Organization  of  Percepts. 

In  its  reaction  upon  sense-impressions^  the  soul  organ^ 
izes  the  elements  of  knowledge  into  a  microcosm,  or  little 
universe;,  corresponding  to  the  outer  cosmos.  It  does 
this  by  grouping  the  joercepts  that  are  received  through 
the  senses  according  to  certain  relations^,  which  are  as 
follows  : 

(1)  The  relation  of  Being.  Percepts  are  accepted  as 
the  correlates,  or  representatives,  of  real  beings.  They 
stand  for  realities.  They  are  distinguished  from  self  and 
referred  to  a  division  of  being  that  is  not  self. 

(2)  The  relation  of  Cause.  Percepts  are  apprehended 
as  having  been  produced  in  us  by  the  reality  which  they 
represent.  AV^e  cannot  think  of  them  except  as  effects  of 
something  that  has  caused  them. 

(3)  The  relation  of  Space.  Percepts  are  referred  to 
certain  points  in  sj)ace  and  stand  related  to  one  another 
in  an  order  of  co-existence.  The  forms  of  being  which 
they  represent  are  apprehended  as  sustaining  these  rela- 
tions of  co-existence  at  times  when  we  are  receiving  no 
percepts  from  them. 

(4)  The  relation  of  Time.  Percepts  are  arranged  in  an 
order  of  succession.  We  distinguish  between  the  earlier 
and  the  later.  Each  one  is  a  unit  and  these  units  in  their 
sequence  give  us  the  notion  of  number. 

Unless  percepts  are  thus  organized  in  these  relations, 
they  are  not  entertained  as  elements  of  knowledge.  They 
are  organized  parts  of  knowledge  as  soon  as  they  fall  into 
these  relations.  A  percept  of  nothing,  without  cause,  ex- 
perienced nowhere,  and  at  no  time,  is  no  form  of  knowl- 
edge.     Here,  again,    we   see   that   our   knowledge   of  'c 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  59 

"  thing,"  or  natural  object,  is  not  simply  a  physical  op  a 
physiological  result,  but  the  product  of  psychical  reaction. 

lO.   Conditions  of  Organizing-  Percepts. 

There  are  conditions  that  mnst  be  fulfilled,  or  it  is  im> 
possible  to  organize  impressions  into  knowledge.  These 
conditions  are  : 

(1)  A  sufficient  period  of  time.  No  impression  is  per- 
ceived, unless  the  excitation  has  some  continuance.  A 
burning  coal  may  be  moved  so  rapidly  as  to  appear  like  a 
circle  of  fire,  when  in  reality  it  is  but  a  single  point.  The 
reason  is  that  the  circle  is  made  so  swiftly  as  to  produce 
but  one  impression  through  the  eye. 

The  velocity  of  light  and  that  of  sound  have  been  calculated  by 
physicists  and  are  set  down  as  about  190,000  miles  per  second  for 
li2:ht,  and  1,090  feet  per  second  for  sound,  at  32°  F.,  sound  travel- 
ling one  foot  faster  per  second  for  every  degree  above  that  tempera- 
ture. The  speed  of  transmission  through  a  motor  nerve  in  man 
has  been  calculated  by  Helmholtz  to  be  about  111  feet  per  second, 
but  Von  Wittich  found  it  to  be  98.5  feet.  Hirsch  calculated  the 
speed  in  the  sensor  nerves  to  be  about  111.5  feet  per  second. 
"  More  than  this  has  been  done;  the  time  has  been  measured  which 
is  requisite  for  an  irritant  conducted  to  the  brain  to  be  transmuted 
into  consciousness.  Such  determinations,  in  addition  to  their  theo- 
retical value,  are  of  practical  interest  to  observing  astronomers.  In 
observing  the  passage  of  stars  on  the  meridian  and  comparing  the 
passage  seen  through  the  telescope  with  the  audible  beats  of  a  sec- 
ond-pendulum, the  observer  always  admits  a  slight  error,  dependent 
on  the  tLme  which  the  impressions  on  the  two  senses  require  to  reach 
the  state  of  consciousness.  In  two  different  observers  this  error  is 
not  of  exactly  the  same  value ;  and  in  order  to  render  the  observa- 
tions of  different  astronomers  comparable  with  each  other,  it  is  nec- 
essary to  know  the  difference  between  the  two  cases,  the  so-called 
personal  equation.  In  order  to  refer  the  observations  made  by 
each  individual  to  the  correct  time,  it  is  necessary  to  determine  the 


eo  PSYCHOLOGY. 

error  which  is  made  by  each  individual.  Let  us  suppose  that  an 
observer  sitting  in  complete  darkness  suddenly  sees  a  spark,  and 
thereupon  gives  a  signal.  By  a  suitable  apparatus,  both  the  time  at 
which  the  spark  really  appeared  and  that  at  which  the  signal  was 
given  are  recorded.  The  difference  between  the  two  can  be  meas- 
ured, and  it  is  called  the  physiological  time  for  the  sense  of  sight: 
the  physiological  time  for  tlie  sense  of  hearing  and  for  \hai  of  touch 
may  be  determined  in  the  same  way.  Professor  Hirsch,  of  Neuf- 
chatel,  found  this  to  be,  in  the  case  of 

The  sense  of  Sight 0.1974  to  0.20&3  seconds. 

The  sense  of  Hearing 0.1940  seconds. 

The  sense  of  Touch 0.1733  seconds. 

When  the  impression  which  was  to  be  recorded  was  not  unexpected, 
but  was  known  beforehand,  the  physiological  time  proved  to  be 
much  shorter;  in  the  case  of  sight,  it  was  only  0.07  to  0.11  of  a  sec- 
ond." ^o  For  a  very  complete  and  satisfactory  summary  of  experi- 
ments of  this  kind,  see  Ladd's  "Physiological  Psychology,"  pp.  468, 
497. 

(2)  A  certain  intensity  in  the  impression  is  necessary. 
J.  F.  Herbart  introduced  into  Psychology  the  expression 
the  "  threshold  of  consciousness,"  to  designate  that  point 
at  which  an  impression  or  ^ '  representation ''  enters  into 
the  sphere  of  feeling.  There  has  been  developed  a  school 
of  psycho- physics  whose  members  have  devoted  much 
effort  to  the  determination  of  the  quantitative  laws  of 
sense-impressions.  The  law  of  Weber  is  :  In  order  that 
a  sensation  may  increase  in  quantity  in  arithmetical  j^ro- 
gression,  the  stiinulus  must  increase  in  geometrical  pro- 
gression. Althongh  this  law  cannot  be  rigidly  demon- 
strated, it  expresses  a  general  trntli,  that  an  impression 
must  reach  a  certain  degree  of  intensity  before  it  can  be 
known,  and  that  any  increase  in  perception  requires  a 
greater  proportionate  increase  in  stimulation. 

The  most  important  contributor  to  psycho-physics  is  the  Germai. 
experimenter,  G.  T.  Fechner  (1801-1888).     Fechner's  formula  is: 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  Q\ 

"The  sensation  grows  as  the  logarithm  of  the  excitation.'"  Nearly 
all  the  experiments  of  Fechner  are  contested  by  Hering  and  others. 
His  work  is  in  part  accepted  and  modified  by  the  French  psycholo- 
gist Delboeuf  and  the  German  psychologist  Wundt.  For  a  very 
interesting  account  of  psycho-physical  investigation  and  controversy, 
see  Ribot's  "  German  Psychology  of  To-day,"  translated  by  Baldwin. 
We  have  room  for  only  a  few  alleged  results.  To  increase  percep- 
■  tibly  a  sensation  of  pressure,  we  must  add  ^  to  the  original  weight ; 
to  increase  a  sensation  of  muscular  effort,  we  must  add  -^^ ;  to  in- 
crease a  sensation  of  light,  we  must  add  j^ ;  to  increase  a  sensation 
of  soimd,  we  must  add  ^. 

(3)  A  certain  psychical  reaction  is  necessary.  Some- 
times a  soldier^  wonnded  in  the  heat  of  battle,  is  not  con- 
scions  of  his  injury  until  the  battle  is  over.  In  this  case, 
thousands  of  painful  impressions  would  have  been  realized 
had  they  been  made  the  objects  of  conscious  reaction. 
The  attention  being  engrossed  upon  other  objects,  they 
pass  away  and  are  not  grouped  with  his  perceptions,  be- 
cause they  have  not  received  attention.  Others  designate 
this  act  of  attention  by  the  word  apperception,  meaning 
thereby  the  reaction  of  the  conscious  subject  upon  the  im- 
pressions. 

Wundt  makes  much  of  this  process  of  apperception  and  locates 
it  in  the  frontal  regions  of  the  brain.  It  is  through  it  that  unity  is 
given  to  our  mental  life.  What  is  it  that  attends  or  apperceives  ? 
Consciousness  says  "i,"  indicating  thereby  the  conscious  self.  Does 
physiology  contradict  this  testmiony  ?  Does  it  affirm  that  appercep- 
tion is  a  function  of  the  brain,  or  of  a  portion  of  the  brain  ?  There 
is  no  physiological,  or  other  evidence  in  opposition  to  that  of  con- 
sciousness. "  All  the  sensations  of  the  senses,"  says  Bernstein,  "of 
which  we  are  capable,  pass  into  perceptions  of  the  senses,  as  soon  as 
certain  mental  operations  have  been  aroused  by  the  sensory  excite- 
ment."*' "  We  are  entirely  unable,"  says  Rosenthal,  "  even  to  in- 
dicate how  this  consciousness  comes  into  being.  It  may  be  due  to 
molecular  processes  in  the  nerve-cells  which  result  from  the  received 


62  PSYCHOLOGY. 

excitement;  but  molocular  processes  are  but  movements  of  the  mole 
cules,  and  though  we  can  understand  how  such  movements  cause 
other  movements,  we  arc  entirely  unaware  how  these  can  be  trans- 
lated into  consciousness."  ^2  After  a  careful  review  of  the  whole 
subject,  L add  concludes:  "The  phenomena  of  human  conscious- 
ness must  be  regarded  as  activities  of  some  other  form  of  Real 
Being  than  the  moving  molecules  of  the  brain.  They  require  a 
subject  or  ground  which  is  in  nature  unlike  the  phosphorized  fats  of 
the  central  masses,  the  aggregated  nerve-fibres  and  nerve-cells  of  the 
cerebral  cortex.  .  .  .  That  the  subject  of  the  states  of  consciousness 
is  a  real  being,  standing  in  certain  relations  to  the  material  beings 
which  compose  the  substance  of  the  brain,  is  a  conclusion  warranted 
by  all  the  facts."  i* 

11.   Character  of  the  Completed  Product. 

The  com2:)leted  product  of  Sense-perce^^tion  has  the  fol- 
lowing characteristics  : 

(1)  It  is  a  form  of  distinct  knowledge  ; 

(2)  It  is  organized  in  certain  necessary  relations; 

(3)  It  may  be  reproduced  in  consciousness ; 

(4)  It  may  be  recognized  as  having  been  known  be- 
fore ; 

(5)  It  may  be  recombined  with  other  forms  of  knowl- 
edge ; 

Such  a  result  is  an  idea,  as  distinguished  from  a  per- 
ception, and,  as  a  psychical  2">i'oduct,  has  a  i^sychical  nat- 
ure. In  passing  from  the  world  of  perceptions  to  the 
world  of  ideas,  we  enter  a  new  province  which  we  shall 
partly  explore  in  succeeding  chapters. 

12.   Relation  of  Soul  and  Body. 

The  relation  between  the  conscious  self,  or  soul,  and 
the  organic  system,  or  body,  is  not  known  directly  h^ 


PRESENTATIYE  KNOWLEDGE.  63 

either  internal  or  external  observation.  The  doctrine  of 
their  connection  is  theoretical  and;,  as  such,  does  not  be- 
long to  Psychology  as  a  science.  It  is  at  this  point  that 
philosophic  systems  have  their  psychological  origin. 

(1)  Monism  (from  the  Greek  [lovog,  monos,  one)  assumes 
that  soul  and  body  are  of  one  substance.  It  takes  on  the 
form  of  (ci)  IVIaterialism  when  the  soul  is  regarded  as  a 
mere  product  of  material  combination^,  or  as  a  function 
of  matter  in  motion  ;  of  {h)  Idealism  when  all  known  ob- 
jects are  regarded  as  ideas^  or  products  of  psychical  action, 
the  soul  being  considered  as  immaterial  and  its  phenom- 
ena as  the  only  other  realities ;  and  of  (c)  Agnosticism  when 
ignorance  is  professed  concerning  the  nature  of  the  one 
substance  which  is  assumed  to  underlie  the  modes  of  both 
physical  and  psychical  being. 

(2)  Dualism  (from  the  Latin  duo,  two)  has  usually  as- 
sumed the  form  of  [ci)  Mysticism,  inventing  the  hypoth- 
eses of  vision  of  all  things  in  God,  pre-established  harmony, 
and  the  intervention  of  a  tertium  quid,  or  third  entity,  to 
connect  the  abstract  notions  of  mind  and  matter.  More 
solid  scientific  ground  is  found  in  {IS)  Dualistic  Realism, 
which  rests  upon  the  clear  apprehension  of  the  soul  by 
Self-consciousness  and  of  the  body  by  Sense-perception  as 
two  modes  of  being  so  inconvertible  in  thought  and  an- 
tithetical in  attributes  that  we  are  obliged  to  regard  them 
as  tivo  different,  but  real,  substances,  whose  relation  is 
established  in  the  psycho-physical  unity  of  our  being,  but 
in  a  manner  unknown  to  us. 

The  Monistic  doctrines  all  ignore  the  idea  of  opposition  which 
every  language,  and  in  truth  every  man,  seems  to  note  between  the 
phenomena  of  consciousness  and  the  phenomena  of  the  physical 
world.     Alexander  Bain  may  be  classed  as  a  IVIaterialist  in  his  con' 


64  PSYCnOLOGY. 

ception  of  the  body  as  a  "  double-faced  unity,"  mind  on  one  side  and 
matter  on  the  other,  with  the  implication  that  mind  is  but  a  func- 
tion of  matter,  thus  leaving  matter  in  the  field  as  the  primary  mode 
of  being  and  only  real  substance.  J.  S.  Mill  is  an  Idealist,  regarding 
mind  as  a  "series  of  feelings,"  a  "thread  of  consciousness,"  while 
matter  is  a  "permanent  possibility  of  sensations. "  Herbert  Spencer 
is  a  typical  Agnostic,  referring  the  phenomena  of  both  mind  and 
matter,  between  which  he  admits  a  difference,  to  an  Unknown  and 
Unknowable  Absolute  Substance.  If  the  existence  of  either  mind  or 
matteft-  is  to  be  brought  in  question,  the  balance  of  evidence,  as  esti- 
mated by  the  greatest  thinkers,  seems  to  be  that  all  is  mind.  Dual- 
istic  doctrines  have  been  complicated  by  arbitrary  and  metaphysical 
ideas  of  both  mind  and  matter.  The  tendency  to  regard  thought  as 
the  essential  characteristic  of  mind  and  extension  as  that  of  matter, 
may  be  traced  back  to  Descartes,  who  treated  both  abstractly  and 
yet  as  if  they  were  realities.  The  French  Cartesian  philosopher, 
Nicolas  Malebranche  (1038-1715),  employed  the  vision  of  all  things 
In  God  to  account  for  the  unextended  soul's  knowledge  of  extended 
things  by  assuming  a  direct  vision  of  ideas  in  the  divine  mind  (spirit 
being  able  to  know  the  contents  of  spirit),  and  the  doctrine  of  occa- 
sional causes  to  account  for  its  movement  of  things  by  special  di- 
vine assistance  on  the  occasion  of  a  human  volition  (the  divine  spirit 
being  omnipotent).  G.  W.  Leibnitz  (1646-1716),  an  erudite  and  in- 
genious German  philosopher,  propounded  his  theory  of  pre-estab- 
lished harmony,  by  which  the  Creator  is  supposed  to  have  ordered 
the  phenomena  of  mind  and  those  of  matter  to  run  parallel,  without 
connection,  like  two  clocks  keeping  the  same  time.  Others  sought 
to  solve  the  problem  of  the  relation  of  mind  and  matter  by  means  of 
a  tertium  quid,  or  third  entity,  thus  doubling  the  difficulty  by  re- 
quiring two  impossible  connections  instead  of  one.  Dualistic  Real- 
ism has  been  maintained  almost  universally  by  mankind,  without  an 
attempt  at  solving  metaphysical  difficulties.  It  has  been  held  by 
the  Scotch  philosophers  generally  from  the  time  of  Thomas  Reid  to 
that  of  James  McCosh  (1811-  ),  an  American  contemporary  rep- 
resentative of  the  school.  It  has  the  advantage  of  adherence  to 
facts  and  the  rejection  of  arbitrary  or  mystical  hypotheses.  It  also 
avoids  a  metaphysical,  or  abstract,  conception  of  either  mind  or 
matter,  rather  regarding  both  as  concrete  realities.  After  all,  there 
is  quite  as  much  difficulty  in  explaining  the  action  ^i  bodies  at  a  dis- 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  65 

tance,  say  the  earth's  gravitative  action  on  the  moon,  as  in  explain- 
ing the  relation  of  soul  and  body.  A  true  science  will  colligate  facts 
as  Nature  has  connected  them  and  confess  ignorance  where  the 
means  of  further  knowledge  cease. 

Instead  of  the  division  of  our  nature  into  body  and  soul,  others 
have  proposed  a  threefold  division,  or  trichotomy,  into  body,  soul, 
and  spirit.  This  has  been  defended  by  a  few,  as,  for  example,  by 
the  German  theologian  Delitzsch  (1813-  ),  in  his  "  Biblical  Psy- 
chology," as  constiiuting  the  psychological  assumption  underlying 
the  language  of  the  Christian  Scriptures.  That  no  such  assumption 
is  implied,  and  that  the  terms  "body,"  "soul,"  and  "spirit"  are 
not  to  be  taken  as  indicating  wholly  separate  constituents  of  human 
nature,  is  maintained  by  theologians  generally,  while  the  threefold 
division  is  wholly  repudiated  from  a  purely  scientific  and  philosoph- 
xjal  point  of  view.^"* 


13.   Sense-perception  and  Education. 

The  senses  and  their  presentations  are  important  factors 
of  education.  The  physical  world  exists  for  the  soul^  not 
simply  to  gratify  our  desires^  but  to  train  and  unfold  our 
powers.  The  doctrines  laid  down  in  this  section  show  us 
(1)  what  should  be  the  earliest  studies^  (2)  in  what  man- 
ner they  should  be  pursued^  and  (3)  how  to  improve  our 
Sense-perceptions. 

(1)  The  earliest  studies  of  childhood  should  be  objective 
and  presentative.  The  brain-substance  of  young  children 
is  especially  ada2:)ted  to  receive  impressions.  The  sim- 
plest intellectual  discriminations  are  those  of  perception. 
Therefore,  the  simple  elements  of  knowledge  are  the  proper 
mental  food  for  children.  Concrete  facts,  not  abstract 
ideas,  should  be  imparted,  and  whenever  it  is  possible,  by 
actual  observation.  The  kindergarten  system  of  F.  W. 
A.  Frobel  (1782-1852),  a  German  thinker  who  borrowed 
ideas  of  J.  H.  Pestalozzi  (1746-1827),  the  celebrated  Swiss 


66  PSYCHOLOGY. 

educator,  recognizes  these  truths  and  was  an  important 
advance  in  the  education  of  chiklren. 

(2)  The  method  of  study  should  be  that  of  object-les- 
sons. The  best  object-lessons  are  derived  from  objects 
themselves.  Accordingly,  the  true  method  of  teaching 
the  physical  sciences  is  to  display  to  the  learner,  so  far  as 
possible,  the  things  about  which  he  is  learning  the  facts 
and  laws, — plants,  animals,  rocks,  or  stars, — and  next  to 
these  models  or  pictures  of  them.  And  yet  the  objects 
themselves  will  not  suffice.  These  have  always  been  be- 
fore men  with  little  practical  fruit.  Teachers  and  books 
are  also  needful  to  stimulate,  interest  and  guide.  As  lan- 
guage is  made  up  of  spoken  sounds,  it  should  be  actually 
spoken  to  and  by  the  learner,  and  the  foreign  names 
should  be  connected  with  what  they  signify,  not  with 
other  words  with  which  they  have  no  natural  connection. 
Thus  only  can  we  learn  to  tliinh  in  a  foreign  language. 
As  languages,  imparted  by  the  natural  method,  are  largely 
objective  and  concrete,  they  form  suitable  studies  for  the 
young. 

(3)  The  improvement  of  Sense-perception  is  attained 
by  its  exercise.  The  eye  or  the  ear  is  trained  to  perfection 
by  employing  it  as  an  instrument  of  discrimination.  Sail- 
ors and  hunters,  whose  discerning  powers  are  wonderful 
in  certain  particulars,  do  not  have  better  eyes  than  other 
people,  but  their  owners  know  how  to  use  them  better  as 
means  of  knowledge.  Our  sense-organs  become  adapted 
to  any  use  we  choose  to  make  of  them  and  their  value  de- 
pends upon  ourselves.  It  has  been  wisely  said,  '^^  All  men 
look  upon  the  same  world,  but  not  with  the  same  eyes  or 
to  the  same  purpose.''^  Teachers  should  not  overlook  the 
value  of  play  for  children,  not  only  as  a  means  of  recrea- 


PRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  67 

tion,  but  as  affording  experimental  knowledge  of  the  prop- 
erties of  tilings  and  as  a  means  of  training  the  senses. 
Industrial  education  has  a  special  value  in  developing  the 
senses  and  organizing  in  the  brain  a  true  representation 
of  material  properties  and  forces  by  the  adjustment  of 
sensor  and  motor  powers  in  manipulation. 

In  this  section,  on  "  Sense-interpretation,"  we  have 
considered  :— 

1,  The  Double  Character'  of  Sense-perception, 

2,  The  Development  of  the  Senses, 

3,  Two  Classes  of  Sense-jjercejjtion, 

4,  Acquired  Sense-perceptions, 

5,  The  Localization  of  Sensations, 

6,  The  Illusions  of  Sense-perception, 

7,  Metliods  of  Avoidinfj  Illusion, 

8,  I*erce2)ts  and  Objects, 

9,  The  Orfjanization  of  Percepts, 

10,  Conditions  of  Organizing  Percepts, 

11,  Character  of  the  Completed  Product, 

12,  Relation  of  Soul  and  Body, 

13,  Se^ise-iierception  and  Education, 

References  :  (1)  See  the  little  work  in  French,  by  Bernard  Perez, 
Thierri  Tiedefnann  et  la  science  de  V enfant.  (2)  Carpenter's  llental 
Physiology,  p.  188.  (3)  Mind,  July,  1887,  p.  324.  (4)  Ribot's  Ger- 
man Psychology  of  To-day  (transhited  by  Baldwin),  pp.  8G,  87. 
(5)  Id.,  pp.  100,  101.  (6)  Sully's  Illusions,  pp.  99,  100.  (7)  Clarke's 
Visions;  a  Study  in  False  Sight,  pp.  26,  29.  (8)  Tuke's  Mfluerice 
of  the  Hind  upon  the  Body,  p.  44.  (9)  Quoted  by  Carpenter, 
3Iental  Physiology,  pp.  207,  208.  (10)  Rosenthal's  Physiology  of 
Muscles  and  Nerves,  pp.  288,  289.  (11)  Bernstein's  Five  Senses 
of  3Ian,  p.  34.  (12)  Rosenthal's  Physiology  of  Muscles  and  Nerves, 
p.  278.  (13)  Ladd's  Physiological  Psychology,  pp.  600,  607.  (14) 
See  Charles  Hodge's  Systematic  Theology,  II.,  pp.  47,  51,  and 
Augustus  H.  Strong's  Systematic  Theology,  pp.  244,  247. 


CHAPTER    II. 

REPRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

DEFINITION    AND    DIVISION    OF    REPRESENTATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

Representative  Knowledge  is  knowledge  of  objects, 
qualities  or  relations  not  actually  present  to  the  senses, 
but  represented  by  ideas.  For  example,  I  saw  a  black 
horse  yesterday;,  of  wliicli  I  liad  at  the  time  immediate, 
or  presentative,  knowledge.  To-day,  I  have  a  representa- 
tive idea  of  him,  althongh  he  is  absent.  This  idea  is 
associated  with  other  ideas  and  is  capable  of  reproduction, 
recognition  and  recombination.  We  have  already  traced 
the  history  of  the  formation  of  such  an  idea,  wdiich  is  the 
completed  product  of  Sense-j^erception.  We  have  now  to 
inquire:  (1)  How  ideas  are  connected  in  trains  by  Associ- 
ation ;  (2)  How  they  are  reproduced  in  couBciousjiess  by 
Phantasy;  (3)  How  they  are  recognized  by  Memory;  and 
(4)  How  they  are  reconnbined  by  Imagination. 

"'Ideas,'"  says  Lotze,  "in  contrast  to  sensations,  is  the  name 
primarily  given  to  those  images  arising  from  previous  sensations, 
tvith  which  we  meet  in  consciousness.  This  accords  with  the  usage 
of  speech  ;  we  form  an  idea  of  what  is  absent,  of  what  we  do  not 
perceive  by  the  senses ;  but  we  perceive  by  the  senses  what  is  pres- 
ent,— that  of  which,  on  just  that  very  account,  we  do  not  need  to 
form  an  idea.  Ideas  have  their  peculiar  differences  from  sensa- 
tions. The  idea  of  the  brightest  radiance  does  not  shine,  that  of 
the  intensest  noise  does  not  sound,  that  of  the  greatest  torture  pro- 
duces no  pain ;  while  all  this  is  true,  however,  the  idea  quite  accu- 
rately represents  the  radiance,  the  sound,  or  the  pain,  which  it  does 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  69 

not  actually  reproduce." '  When  we  look  directly  at  an  object,  wo 
have  an  immediate  knowledge  of  it,  but  carry  away  an  "  idea  "  of  it. 
However  much  abused  in  common  speech,  the  word  "idea"  con- 
tinues to  be  our  best  English  word  for  representative  knowledge. 


SEGTIOIT    L 
ASSOCIATION. 


1.   The  Relation  of  Impressions. 

Our  sense-impressions  are  experienced  in  a  succession 
of  time  and  referred  to  an  order  of  co-existence  in  space, 
so  that  they  are  not  recalled  as  separate  and  single  but 
associated  in  groups.  AVe  have  already  seen  that  the 
organization  of  percepts  in  certain  definite  relations  is 
essential  to  perception.  Accordingly,  our  ideas  are  con- 
nected, constitute  a  train  of  ideas  and  recur  to  conscious- 
ness in  a  certain  order  and  relation.  This  aggregation  of 
ideas  into  groups,  or  trains,  is  called  the  association  of 
ideas. 

Ideas  suggest  one  another  in  a  manner  with  which  we  are  all 
familiar.  The  idea  of  a  hearse  brings  up  ideas  about  death.  The 
idea  of  a  house  suggests  the  appearance  of  its  inmates.  The  first 
word  of  a  song  suggests  the  following  words.  Thus  we  find  that  all 
our  ideas  are  connected  in  groups  and  trains,  so  that  if  one  idea  is 
uppermost  in  consciousness,  others  are  almost  certain  to  arise  in 
connection  with  it  and,  as  we  often  say,  are  suggested  by  it.  It  is 
this  power  of  suggestion  that  we  wish  in  the  present  section  to  illus- 
trate and  explain.  We  shall  see  that  it  does  not  reside  in  ideas 
themselves  but  in  the  soul,  which  reproduces  them. 

2.  The  Laws  of  Association. 

As  long  ago  as  the  time  of  Aristotle,  it  was  known  that 
representative  ideas  recur  to  consciousness  according  to 


70  PSYCHOLOGY. 

certain  laws.  Aristotle^  laid  down  three,  whicli  have  been 
generally  acce2:>ted,  as  follows:  (1)  The  Law  of  Resem- 
blance, according  to  which  ideas  that  are  similar  are 
grouped  together  and  suggest  one  another  ;  (2)  The  Law 
of  Contiguity,  according  to  which  ideas  which  are  related 
in  sjDace  or  time, — as  the  parts  of  an  object,  or  the  succes- 
sive notes  of  a  song, — suggest  one  another ;  and  (3)  The 
Law  of  Contrast,  according  to  which  objects  strikingly 
unlike,  as  light  and  darkness,  suggest  one  another. 
Others  have  increased  these  three  laws  to  ten,  but  without 
sufficient  reason.  The  so-called  Law  of  Redintegration 
reduces  them  to  one.  It  was  first  suggested  by  St.  Augus- 
tine (354-430),  a  distinguished  Father  of  the  Church,  and 
is  usually  referred  to  by  writers  as  Hamilton's  reduction 
of  the  laws  of  association,  but  was  rejected  as  inadequate 
by  him.  It  may  be  formulated  thus:  "  Cbjects  that  have 
leen  lyrcvionsly  united  as  parts  of  a  smgle  mental  state, 
tend  to  recall  or  s\iggest  one  another.''^  In  addition  to 
these  laws,  which  may  be  called  Primary  Laws  of  Associa- 
tion, there  are  certain  Secondary  Laws,  so  named  because 
they  seem  to  be  less  universal  and  more  dej)endent  upon 
circumstances  than  the  Primary  Laws.  These  are  (1)  The 
Law  of  Intensity,  according  to  which  ideas  formed  with 
special  intensity  of  psychical  action  persist  longest  and 
recur  most  frequently  in  consciousness  ;  and  (2)  The  Law 
of  Repetition,  according  to  which  the  more  an  idea  is 
dwelt  upon  and  repeated  in  thought,  the  more  prominent 
and  enduring  it  becomes. 

Aristotle's  statement  of  the  Laws  of  Association  is  very  brief. 
The  English  philosopher,  Thomas  Hobbes  (1588-1679),  brought  out 
the  association  l)etween  "means  and  end,"  "cause  and  effect," 
"sign  and  thing  signified."    Both  Aristotle  and  Hobbes  refer  these 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  71 

conne<3tions  to  movements  in  the  physical  organism.  John  Locke 
treats  of  the  connection  of  ideas  as  natural  and  necessary  and  yet 
does  not  rely  upon  association  for  any  important  explanations. 
David  Hume  really  laid  the  foundations  of  the  modern  Associational 
Philosophy  by  resolving  all  our  psychical  experiences  into  sensations 
^nd  the  associations  between  them.  David  Hartley  (1705-1757),  an 
English  physician  and  writer,  attempted  to  connect  the  psycholog- 
ical doctrines  of  Hume  with  physiological  theories  of  his  own,  regard- 
ing certain  vibrations  in  the  medullary  substance  of  the  brain  as  the 
Bause  of  sensations,  building  up  the  whole  fabric  of  knowledge  and 
feeling  out  of  elementary  sensations  by  the  aid  of  association.  The 
speculations  of  Hartley  were  never  widely  accepted  and  are  now 
treated  with  disregard  on  account  of  his  imperfect  psychological 
analyses  and  crude  physiology.  The  Scotch  philosopher,  Thomas 
Brown  (1778-1820),  adopted  the  idea  of  association  and,  under  the 
name  of  "suggestion,"  attempted  to  explain  the  natural  history  of 
certain  forms  of  knowledge  and  even  to  account  for  results  formerly 
attributed  to  distinct  faculties,  whose  existence  he  in  part  denied. 
Another  Scotch  writer,  James  Mill,  has  treated  the  subject  with 
more  precision  and  delicacy  of  analysis  and  has  striven  to  account 
for  such  ideas  as  those  of  "substance,"  "cause,"  "space,"  and 
"time"  by  showing  that  they  are  simply  "inseparable  associa- 
tions." His  son,  John  Stuart  Mill,  has  contributed  much  to  English 
Associationism,  following  out  even  more  extensively  the  doctrines 
of  his  father.  The  Senior  Mill  was  a  close  student  of  Hartley  and 
leaned  toward  Materialism,  but  John  Stuart  Mill  repudiates  the 
dependence  of  psychical  states  upon  corresponding  bodily  states  and 
considers  the  laws  of  association  as  purely  psychological.  He, 
^  however,  rejects  the  idea  of  an  independent  Ego,  explaining  the 
entire  being  of  the  soul  as  consisting  in  associated  sensations. 
Alexander  Bain  rejects  the  idea  of  independent  faculties  and 
endeavors  to  explain  the  facts  of  consciousness  as  physiological 
effects  which  are  combined  by  association  so  as  to  include  the  whole 
fabric  of  psychical  life,  the  association  of  ideas  being  merely  the 
ideal  side  of  certain  combinations  in  the  substance  of  the  brain.  In 
his  doctrine  there  is  a  return  to  physiological  assumptions  similar  to 
those  of  Hartley.  Herbert  Spencer  unites  the  physiological  origin  of 
conscious  states  with  the  doctrine  of  association,  supplemented  by  the 
process  of  evolution.     For  him  sensation,  as  a  correlate  of  a  physical 


73  PSYCHOLOGY. 

process,  is  the  elementary  fact  in  the  natural  histor/  of  mind.  By 
the  process  of  association,  which  corresponds  to  the  grouping  of 
nervous  stimulations,  the  higher  psychical  experiences  are  evolved 
out  of  simple  sensations.  Thus  the  idea  of  association  is  made  to 
serve  the  purpose  of  explaining  the  development  of  the  Ego  and  of 
its  faculties. 

3.  The  Primary  Laws  of  Association. 

A  closer  attention  to  the  three  primary  laws  of  associa- 
tion is  desirable.     Let  ns  examine  tliem  in  tlieir  order. 

(1)  The  Law  of  Resemblance. — Similar  ideas  are  fre- 
quently associated  together.  One  beautiful  landscape  re- 
minds us  of  another.  The  face  of  a  stranger  recalls  the 
face  of  an  absent  friend,  because  of  the  resemblance.  A 
very  cold  day  causes  us  to  think  of  another  like  it  years 
ago.  There  is  no  doubt  that  this  is  a  general  law  of  asso- 
ciation of  ideas.  What  is  the  connection  between  the  two 
ideas  thus  said  to  be  associated,  or  brought  into  conscious- 
ness together  ?  Is  it  a  physical  or  a  psychical  connection  ? 
Is  there  a  place  in  the  brain  where  ideas  are  deposited, 
assorted  according  to  their  kind,  so  that  the  communica- 
tion of  motion  to  one  conveys  it  to  another  ?  The  crudity 
of  this  exj^lanation  is  evident  the  moment  we  consider  {a) 
that  Physiology  and  Anatomy  give  us  no  warrant  for  re- 
garding the  brain  as  a  storehouse  where  things  are  de- 
posited ;  (h)  that  an  idea  is  not  a  thing  having  physical 
properties ;  and  (6-)  that  an  idea  is  a  'psycliicdl  product, 
utterly  inconceivable  except  as  the  state  of  a  conscious 
being  that  at  once  possesses  and  produces  it.  The  facts 
are  more  easily  harmonized  if  we  suppose  that  similar 
\deas  occur  together,  because  the  conscious  soul  that  first 
produced  them  is  thrown  into  such  a  state  as  to  reproduce 
them.    The  association  of  similar  ideas  would  seem^  then, 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  73 

^,0  result  from  an  activity  of  the  soul  rather  than  from  any 
connection  between  ideas  themselves. 

(2)  The  Law  of  Contiguity.  — When  things  have  been 
known  as  adjacent  in  space,  or  events  as  consecutive  in 
time^  the  ideas  of  them  are  associated.  The  idea  of  curl- 
ing smoke  suggests  the  fire  that  produces  it.  The  odor 
of  a  rose  suggests  the  form  and  color  of  a  rose.  One  letter 
in  the  alphabet  suggests  the  next  following.  We  repeat 
a  verse  easily  in  the  natural  order,  with  difficulty  or  not 
at  all  in  the  reverse  order.  What  is  the  connection  here  ? 
Is  it  physical  or  psychical  ?  We  can  mentally  reverse  the 
order,  and  as  soon  as  the  mind  has  become  accustomed  to 
it,  the  new  order  is  as  easy  as  the  old.  The  facility  of 
transition  is  the  result  of  a  psychical  habit.  We  conclude 
that  in  the  case  of  contiguity  also  the  connection  is  a  psy- 
chical one,  that  is,  one  created  by  the  mind  through  its 
own  activity. 

(3)  The  Law  of  Contrast. — On  a  very  warm  day  we  wish 
for  a  cold  one,  on  a  very  cold  day  we  wish  for  a  warm 
one.  Our  j^resent  misery  leads  us  to  think  of  our  former 
good  fortune.  There  is  no  doubt  that  certain  ideas  are 
thus  brought  together  in  consciousness  because  they  are 
unlike.  Whatever  physical  explanation  we  might  give  of 
the  law  of  resemblance  certainly  could  not  apply  to  the 
case  of  contrast.  If  similar  ideas  lie  connected  in  the 
brain,  then  dissimilar  ideas  do  not.  But  suppose  we  re- 
gard all  ideas  as  products  of  the  soul,  resulting  from  the 
state  into  which  it  is  thrown.  Then  the  reaction  from 
one  state  may  occasion  the  production  of  its  opposite,  as 
if  seeking  an  equilibrium. 

It  is  assumed  by  Bain  "*  and  some  other  Associationists  that  each 
sense-impression  is  recorded  in  a  cell  of  the  brain.     It  leaves,  so  to 


74  PSYCnOLOOY. 

speak,  a  scar  upon  its  appropriate  cell.  The  cells  are  connected  by- 
nervous  fibres  so  as  to  form  circuits  over  which  nervous  force  can 
travel  as  electricity  travels  over  a  system  of  telegraphic  wires.  The 
association  of  ideas,  then,  results  from  the  order  in  which  the  cur- 
rent moves  from  cell  to  cell,  producing  in  each  a  discharge  which, 
on  its  subjective  side,  is  a  revival  of  the  idea  deposited  there.  Thus 
our  whole  mental  life  is  the  result  of  a  succession  of  such  nervous 
discharges  in  the  brain.  The  order  and  connection  of  our  ideas  de- 
pend entirely  upon  the  order  in  which  these  cells  are  discharged,  and 
this  upon  the  line  of  least  resistance  of  the  nervous  current.  The 
inadequacy  of  this  conception  of  the  mechanism  of  association  is  evi- 
dent from  the  following  considerations :  {a)  It  has  never  been  proved 
that  any  particular  "idea"  has  any  definite  location  in  any  brain- 
cell  ;  {b)  it  has  never  been  proved  that  the  different  cells  have  any 
such  specific  structure  or  properties  as  to  enable  them  to  retain  for 
the  length  of  time  ideas  are  retained  any  impression  whatever;  (c)  it 
has  never  been  proved  that  consciousness  of  mental  states  follows 
any  line  of  nervous  current  through  the  brain  or  that  there  are  any 
restricted  paths  for  such  currents ;  {d)  the  duality  of  the  brain,  it  be- 
ing divided  into  twr*  hemispheres,  renders  doubtful  the  distribution 
claimed;  (e)  all  that  we  know  about  an  "idea"  leads  us  to  doubt 
that  it  can  be  preserved  in  a  cell  of  matter  composed  of  atoms; 
(/)  an  "idea"  is  a  psychical  product,  not  a  physical  thing,  and  can- 
not be  shown  to  exist  outside  of  a  conscious  mind. 


4.  Tlie  Secondary  Laws  of  Association. 

These  have  been  variously  stated^  but  they  may  be  re- 
duced to  the  following  two  : 

(1)  The  Law  of  Intensity. — Ideas  formed  with  sjiecial 
intensity  of  psychical  action  persist  in  the  consciousness 
and  endure  longer  than  those  formed  with  less  intensity. 
This  law  is  not  universal.  Our  clearest  and  best  formed 
ideas  do  not  persist  in  the  sense  that  they  continue  in  con- 
sciousness, nor  do  they  recur  except  when  they  are  in  con- 
nection with  other  kindred  ideas.  Still,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that,  in  general,  such  ideas  are  more  prominent 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  75 

than  others.  But  they  simply  reveal  a  special  energy  of 
the  soul  in  their  formation  and  show  the  importance  of 
the  psychical  factor.  What  the  soul  has  once  done  with 
energy  or  interest  it  repeats  with  energy  or  interest  on  oc- 
casion. Feeling  is  a  link  of  association  and  constitutes 
the  important  element  in  what  we  designate  as  ^'^  in- 
terest.'^ 

(2)  The  Law  of  Repetition. — A  repeated  act  is  easier  to 
perform  than  an  unaccustomed  act.  This  is  the  law  of 
habit.  A  lesson  gone  over  with  care  many  times  can  be 
repeated  without  the  book,  because  the  soul  has  acquired 
the  habit  of  creating  certain  states  of  consciousness  in  a 
given  order,  and  hence  the  repetition  of  the  lesson  becomes 
progressively  easy. 

Too  little  notice  has  usually  been  taken  of  association  through 
feeling,  which  as  a  constant  element  of  experience  is  often  the  con- 
necting link  between  wholly  dissimilar  and  otherwise  wholly  unas- 
sociated  ideas.  The  following  is  a  suggestive  passage  by  an  Ameri- 
can psychologist,  John  Dewey  (1859-  ),  upon  this  point:  "Feel- 
ing, in  all  cases,  seems  to  serve  as  a  matrix  in  which  ideas  are 
imbedded,  and  by  which  they  are  held  together.  There  is  no  more 
permanent  tie  between  ideas  than  this  identity  of  emotion.  The 
power  of  a  flag  to  awaken  patriotic  ideas  and  resolves,  of  a  cross  to 
arouse  religious  meditation  or  devout  action,  is  due  to  the  tie  of 

feeling  rather  than  to  that  of  an  intellectual  process The 

poet  not  only  detects  subtler  analogies  than  other  men  and  perceives 
the  subtler  link  of  identity  where  others  see  confusion  and  difference, 
but  the  form  of  his  expression,  his  language,  images,  etc.,  are  con- 
trolled by  deeper  unities.  These  unities  are  unities  of  feeling.  The 
objects,  the  ideas,  connected  are  perhaps  remote  from  each  other  to 
intellect,  but  feeling  fuses  them.  Unity  of  feeling  gives  artistic 
unity,  wholeness  of  effect,  to  the  composition,  v  ^en  unity  is  want- 
ing there  is  no  poetry;  M'here  the  unity  is  one  f>i  reflection,  purpose, 
or  argument,  we  instinctively  feel  that  the  CL/mposifion  approaches 


76  •  PSYCHOLOGY. 

5.   The  Laws  of  Association  Resolved. 

The  resolution  of  the  Laws  of  Association  into  the  Law 
pf  Ttedintegration  fails  to  formulate  the  whole  truths  for 
it  cannot  be  held  that  all  similar  ideas  or  all  contrasted 
ideas  have  ever  united  to  form  one  mental  state.  This 
Hamilton  distinctly  saw  and  enounced.  A  more  success- 
ful attempt  to  resolve  these  laws  into  a  single  universal 
principle  has  been  made  by  Porter  :  '^  The  mind  tends  to 
act  again  more  readily  in  a  manner  or  form  ivliich  is  sim- 
ilar to  any  in  which  it  has  acted  hefore."^  This  state- 
ment avoids  the  objection  to  the  Law  of  Eedintegration, 
for  in  reproducing  a  given  idea  it  is  an  easy  transition  to 
another  similar  to  it,  and  also  by  reaction  to  one  con- 
trasted with  it.  This  conception  of  the  facts  and  laws 
of  association  of  ideas  has  the  following  advantages  : 

(1)  It  finds  the  cause  of  the  connection  of  ideas  in  a 
psychical,  rather  than  a  physical,  agent.  It  having  been 
shown  that  ideas  are  psychical  products,  it  is  vain  to  look 
for  the  cause  of  their  connection  in  physiological  processes 
or  anatomical  arrangements  in  the  body.  Physiology  hav- 
ing failed  to  explain  the  origin  of  a  simple  perception,  it 
must  fail  also  in  exj^laining  the  connection  between  ideas. 

(2)  It  finds  the  cause  of  the  connection  of  ideas  in  that 
which  confessedly  connects  them,  the  soul  itself.  Ideas 
without  a  conscious  subject  knowing  and  combining  them 
can  have  no  conceivable  existence.  Apart  from  the  con- 
scious subject  they  do  not  even  exist.  Their  connection 
is  in  consciousness,  not  in  a  physical  substratum.  Even 
upon  a  physiological  hypothesis,  ideas  are  not  connected 
until  they  are  brought  together  in  consciousness. 

(Z)  It  avoids  every  form  of  grotesque  and  speculati 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  77 

notion  concerning  the  separate  and  substantive  existence 
of  ideas,  wliicli  every  nuiterialistic  liypotliesis  must  assume. 
Science  knows  nothing  of  a  '^  theatre  ^^  or  ^^  show-place  ^' 
of  ideas,  to  borrow  figures  from  Locke  and  Hume,  nothing 
of  the  ^'■pigeon-holes  of  the  mind/^  of  the  popular  dialect, 
where  ''^ideas'''  are  stored  away  like  documents  in  a  secre- 
tary. The  anatomy  of  the  brain  reveals  nothing  of  this 
kind.  The  minutest  photography  can  copy  no  images  of 
ideas  in  the  brain.  Ideas  exist  in  the  soul  and  for  the 
soul  and  have  no  existence  out  of  it.  The  doctrine  that 
the  soul  reproduces  its  ideas,  rids  us  of  all  unscientific  hy- 
potheses about  the  ^^attractiveness  of  ideas  for  one  an- 
other." All  the  phenomena  of  association  are  compre- 
hended in  the  one  law  of  Habit,  according  to  which  the 
soul  resumes  those  states  which  it  has  first  assumed  under 
the  stimulation  of  sense-impressions. 

To  speak  of  the  "  attractive  force  of  ideas," — an  expression 
used  by  the  erudite  Italian  Fran9ois-IVlarie  Zanotti,  who  (in  1747) 
employed  it  as  the  title  of  an  ingenious  book, — is  indicative  of  the 
same  unscientific  condition  of  mind  that  is  betrayed  by  such  an  ex- 
pression as,  "Nature  abhors  a  vacuum."  It  is  a  product  of  that 
tendency  of  mind  which  impels  men  to  put  abstractions  in  the  place  of 
concrete  facts  and  inductions  from  them.  To  speak  of  "ideas"  as 
"  residing"  in  cells  of  the  brain  is  a  crudity  of  the  same  order.  An 
' '  idea, "  as  known  to  us,  is  not  endowed  with  any  property  of  attract- 
iveness for  other  ideas.  Nor  are  ideas  of  such  a  nature  that  they 
can  be  referred  to  particular  cells  of  the  brain.  My  idea  of  a  horse, 
for  example,  cannot  be  referred  to  any  single  cell.  The  cell  is  a  liv- 
ing and  constantly  renewed  material  mass  from  which  any  image 
would  soon  be  obliterated,  if  it  were  capable  of  receiving  one,  which 
it  is  not  known  to  be.  The  act  of  combining  images  in  any  order  at 
will,  would  be  impossible,  if  images  were  imprinted  in  stationary 
and  immovable  cells  in  the  brain.  This  mode  of  conception  is  a  re- 
siduum of  that  primitive  hypothesis  of  Democritus,  that  objects 
throw  ofl  images  (eidola)  which  enter  into  the  head  through  the 


78  PSYCnOLOOY. 

organs  of  sense  and  serve  us  as  representatives  of  the  things  them- 
selves.  This  mechanical  conception  still  lingers  in  the  idea  of  rep- 
resentative "impressions,"  fixed  on  cells  as  a  seal  on  a  tablet  of  wax. 
We  cannot  too  often  repeat  that  modern  science  recognizes  nothing 
of  this  kind.  The  simplest  sensation  is  a  vital  process  requiring  the 
reaction  of  the  conscious  subject.  The  simplest  perception  is  a  psy- 
chical result.  An  idea,  then,  is  not  a  physical  thing  or  the  mark  or 
property  or  product  of  a  physical  thing,  but  a  product  of  the  soul 
and  non-existent  except  as  the  soul  gives  it  being. 

f,  Tlie  Place  of  Association  in  Kepresentative 
Knowledge. 

The  word  ^^  Association'^  properly  designates  that  con- 
nection of  our  ideas  into  gronps  and  trains  which  we  con- 
stantly experience.  Association  is  so  far  from  explaining 
any  thing,  that  it  requires  to  be  explained.  The  facts  of 
association  are  not  explained  by  the  laws,  which  are  mere 
generalizations,  and  imperfect  ones,  of  the  facts.  These 
facts  require  for  their  explanation  a  cause  that  is  able  to 
produce  them.  The  soul  is  the  ideating  agent,  and  the 
souFs  tendency  to  repeat  its  own  acts  explax^is  both  the 
facts  and  the  laws  of  association.  The  associational  psy- 
chology, which  would  explain  the  nature  of  the  soul  by 
the  composition  of  sensations,  is  inadequate  and  erroneous. 
No  sensation  can  be  explained  without  the  soul,  and  the 
activity  of  the  soul  alone  can  explain  the  association  of 
ideas.  The  theory  of  Associationism  fails  in  three  i:)ar- 
ticulars  to  give  an  account  of  the  j^sychical  facts  : 

(1)  It  fails  to  explain  the  voluntary  reproduction  of  ideas. 
We  are  conscious  of  the  power  to  reproduce  ideas,  with  cer- 
tain limitations,  at  will.  We  can  reproduce  ideas  formed 
years  ago  and  institute  a  connected  train  of  representations. 

(2)  It  fails  to  explain  the  recognition  of  representative 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  79 

ideas.  AVe  not  only  can  reproduce,  we  can  recognize  cer- 
tain representative  ideas  as  known  hy  us  before. 

(3)  It  fails  to  explain  the  voluntary  recombination  of 
ideas.  We  have  the  power  to  combine  ideas  in  new  rela- 
tions, for  example,  to  construct  in  the  mind  a  building 
different  from  any  we  have  seen  and  to  fill  it  with  objects 
which  we  have  never  seen  together. 

The  Association  of  Ideas  does  not  give  an  account  of 
these  phenomena  of  our  conscious  experience.  It  fails, 
then,  to  explain  the  soul's  life  without  the  assumption  of 
special  powers  belonging  to  the  soul  and  exercised  by 
it.  We  shall  endeavor  to  describe  the  operation  of  these 
powers  in  the  following  sections. 

If  the  positions  here  taken  with  reference  to  Association  and  its 
laws  should  require  further  defense  in  order  to  render  them  accept- 
able to  those  otherwise  instructed,  the  following  statements  may  be 
helpful.  It  is  here  assumed  that  the  soul  is  a  real  being  endowed 
with  powers,  or  faculties.  This  conception  has  not  yet  given  place 
to  the  "  Psychology  without  a  soul  "  which  is  so  interesting  to  cer- 
tain theorists.  High  authorities  on  the  subject  of  "Physiological 
Psychology"  concede  this  point.  Ladd  says:  "Finally,  then,  the 
assumption  that  the  mind  is  a  real  being,  u'hich  can  he  acted  upon 
hj  the  brain  and  which  can  act  on  the  hody  through  the  hrcmi,  is  the 
07ily  one  compatible  with  all  the  facts  of  experience.'"  "^  It  is  the  mind,, 
or  soul,  that  knows  ideas  and  in  which  ideas  are  associated.  We 
should,  then,  seek  the  explanation  of  association  in  the  soul,  not  in 
the  brain.  We  find  that  explanation  in  the  law  of  habit,  or  custom- 
ary activity  of  the  soul.  If  the  soul  is  a  real  being,  habit  may  be  at- 
tributed to  it  as  well  as  to  a  physical  organ.  "  Gassendi  (1592-1655), 
a  French  philosopher,  has  very  ingeniously  compared  habitude  to  a 
paper  which  easily  resumes  the  folds  according  to  which  it  was  fold- 
ed before.  The  Scotch  philosopher,  Dugald  Stewart  (1753-1828), 
looked  upon  habitude  as  a  result  of  the  association  of  ideas.  This 
is,  however,  the  mistaking  of  the  effect  for  the  cause.  He  sees  the 
close  relation,  even  the  identity,  between  both  phenomena,  habitude. 


80  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  the  association  of  ideas.  He  recognizes  tliat  the  one  phenom- 
enon is  the  more  general  and  the  other  only  a  kind  of  particular  in- 
stance of  the  sanie ;  but  he  does  not  notice  that  the  association  of 
ideas  is  only  one  of  the  most  frequent  and  remarkable  forms  of  hab- 
itude  If  we  now  proceed  to  the  definition  of  habit  and  hab- 
itude, we  shall  say,  Habit  is  the  disposition  of  a  psycho-physical 
organism  by  which  it  is  enabled  on  given  (outer  or  inner)  induce- 
ments directly  to  perform  relatively  similar  functions,  simple  or 

complicated Habitude  is,  furthermore,  the  development  of 

this  disposition  by  the  repetition  of  relatively  similar  impressions 
and  the  reactions  following  them."  ^ 

7.  The  Relation  of  Association  to  Eclucationc 

Association  of  ideas  has  a  twofold  bearing  upon  edu- 
cation, because  of  the  im]3ortance  (1)  of  associations 
formed  by  others  and  j^resented  to  the  learner  and  (2)  of 
associations  formed  by  the  learner  himself. 

(1)  Associations  formed  by  others. — There  are  certain 
groups  and  trains  of  ideas  that  have  been  forming  for 
many  generations  and  constitute  an  inheritance  of  human- 
ity embodied  in  language,  institutions,  and  laws.  A  great 
part  of  education  consists  in  the  acquisition  of  this  accu- 
mulated mass  of  already  organized  knowledge.  It  is  con- 
veyed through  language,  whose  component  words  are  signs 
of  ideas  and  whose  sentences  stand  for  organized  grouj^s 
of  ideas.  All  speech  and  literature,  from  the  simple  sen- 
tences addressed  to  children  to  the  most  abstruse  philo- 
sophical treatises,  represent  such  associated  ideas.  Litera- 
ture has  been  called  "  condensed  Anthropology,^^  because 
it  contains  the  combinations  of  ideas  of  all  the  men  whose 
wi'itings  are  preserved  to  us.  These  associations,  or  group- 
ings, of  ideas  are  conveyed  to  the  mind  of  the  learner 
ready-made.  Hence  the  educational  meaning  of  the  ex- 
pression,  "  Line  upon  line  and  precept  upon  precept.^' 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  81 

The  primer,  the  catechism,  and  the  text-book  are  medi- 
ums of  producing  in  others  ready-made  groups  and  trains 
of  ideas  that  are  believed  to  be  of  moral  or  scientific,  that 
is,  of  educational,  value.  A  psychical  habit  considered  by 
the  teacher  desirable  is  induced  in  the  learner  by  the  study 
of  certain  combinations  of  ideas,  until,  finally,  they  be- 
come a  part  of  the  learner's  mode  of  thinking.  This  is 
the  very  essence  of  the  process  of  instruction  (from  the 
Latin  instruere,  to  build  in). 

(2)  Associations  formed  by  the  learner. — Education  is 
not  simply  a  filling  but,  in  part,  an  unfolding  process. 
The  learner  must  be  trained  to  group  his  ideas  according 
to  natural  principles.  To  this  end,  studies  should  be  pur- 
sued {a)  comparativeiy,  so  as  to  bring  similar  facts  together 
at  the  same  time,  to  be  referred  to  a  common  principle ; 
{h)  historically,  so  as  to  connect  facts  in  an  order  of  natu- 
ral contiguity,  which  will  be  a  chronological  and  a  causal 
order  ;  and  {c)  analytically,  so  as  to  bring  to  notice  the  im- 
portant differences  or  points  of  contrast.  These  methods 
are  adapted  to  the  cultivation  of  the  Intellect  and  the 
strengthening  of  independent  judgments,  and  are,  there- 
fore, avoided  by  teachers  who  wish  to  impress  ready-made 
formulas  upon  the  mind  rather  than  to  develop  its  facul- 
ties. The  intensity  with  which  study  is  pursued  affects 
both  the  reproduction  of  Avhat  is  learned  and  the  increase 
of  intellectual  power.  The  dull  and  listless  mind  needs 
to  be  stirred  and  inspired,  and  the  power  of  inspiration  is, 
therefore,  an  essential  quality  in  a  good  teacher.  Enthu- 
siasm is  awakened  chiefly  through  the  feelings, — the  de- 
sires and  affections  ; — but,  like  every  form  of  feeling,  it  is 
contagious  and  so  may  be  imparted  by  one  who  possesses 
it  and  can  hardly  be  generated  by  one  who  does  not. 


82  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Repetition  is  directly  prodnotive  of  habitude,  which  it  is 
tlio  end  of  education  as  discipline  to  produce.  For  this 
reason,  lessons  should  be  gone  over  many  times  in  propor- 
tion to  their  difficulty  and  reviews  are  important.  It  is, 
however,  a  mistake  to  substitute  repetition  for  intensity 
in  our  studies  and  thus  encourage  lassitude  with  the  hope 
of  indefinite  chances  of  making  up  in  reviews. 

The  value  of  language  as  an  instrument  of  analysis  is  of  the 

highest  importance,  and  yet  is  often  overlooked.  Suppose  I  look  out 
of  ray  window  and  see  a  black  horse  running  swiftly.  The  whole 
picture,  as  presented  by  the  sense  of  vision,  constitutes  one  single 
image.  It  remains  one  and  single  until  I  have  occasion  to  describe 
it  in  words.  The  moment  I  attempt  to  do  so,  an  analytic  process, 
or  process  of  resolution  into  parts,  is  necessary.  I  must  name  the 
animal  "horse,"  his  color,  "black,"  his  act,  "running,"  his  speed, 
"swiftly,"  and  I  must  indicate  whether  it  is  a  definite  or  an  indefi- 
nite black  horse  that  runs,  and  so  must  use  an  article,  "a"  or 
"the."  Putting  all  together,  I  say,  "J.  black  liorse  is  running 
swiftly, ^^  a  sentence  in  which  my  one  visual  image  is  broken  up 
by  five  distinctions,  each  expressed  in  a  separate  word.  There  is 
truth  in  the  joroverb,  "No  one  knows  a  thing  until  he  can  tell  it." 
The  truth  in  it  is,  that  expression  in  words  increases  our  knowledge 
by  compelling  us  to  regard  objects  analytically.  The  study  of  lan- 
guage is,  therefore,  necessary  to  the  proper  study  of  things,  and 
shouhl  accompany  it.  Physical  science  without  verbal  aid  is  impos- 
sible. It  required  long  linguistic  training  before  the  human  species 
ever  regarded  any  object  scientifically,  and  no  unlettered  people  has 
ever  made  any  advance  in  the  scientific  study  of  nature. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  study  of  words  without  things  dooms  the 
Intellect  to  stagnation.  Having  received  a  formula,  if  we  rest  in  it, 
we  make  no  advance.  Most  of  the  error  in  the  world  is  perpetuated 
tlu-ough  formulas  which  are  accepted  as  authoritative  without  com- 
paring the  combinations  of  words  with  the  combinations  of  things. 
Error  is  usually  nothing  more  than  false  associations  of  ideas. 
Truth  is  the  correspondence  of  ideas,  singly  and  in  their  combina- 
tions, with  reality. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  83 

In  this    section,    on    "Association,"  we  have  con- 
sidered :— 

1.  The  jRclation  of  Impressions. 

2.  The  Laws  of  Association, 

3.  The  Priinary  Laivs  of  Association. 

4.  The  Secondary  Laivs  of  Association. 

5.  The  Latvs  of  Association  Hesolvcd. 

6.  The  Place  of  Associdtion  in  Representative 
K7101V  ledge, 

7.  The  Relation  of  Association  to  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Lotze's  Outlines  of  Psycliology,  p.  28.  (2)  Aris- 
totle's De  la  Memoire  ef  de  la  Reminiscence,  referred  to  in  Hamil- 
ton's edition  of  Reid's  Works,  Note  D***,  where  the  history  of  the 
Doctrine  of  Association  is  fully  discussed.  (3)  Hamilton's  Lectures 
on  Metaphysics,  p.  435  and  edition  of  Reid's  Works,  Note  D***. 
(4)  Bain's  Body  and  3Ii7id,  pp.  110,  112.  (5)  Dewey's  Psychology, 
pp.  106,  107.  (6)  Porter's  Human  Intellect,  p.  293.  (7)  Ladd's 
Physiological  Psychology,  p.  667.  (8)  Radestock's  Habit  and  its 
Importance  in  Education,  pp.  29,  30. 


SEIGTION  n. 

PHANTASY. 
1.  Definition  and  Nature  of  Phantasy. 

Phantasy  (from  the  Greek  cpavrd^Eiv,  "pliantazein,  to 
cause  to  appear)  is  the  soul's  power  to  reproduce  ideas 
previously  formed,  in  the  absence  of  the  objects  them- 
selves. Sitting  in  my  room,  I  can  reproduce  ideas,  de- 
rived from  Sense-perception,  of  the  exterior  of  the  build- 
ing, which  I  cannot  now  immediately  know.  This  is  an 
act  of  Phantasy.  By  many  writers  on  this  subject  it 
would   be  called  an  act  of   Memory.     The  function   of 


84  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Memory  is  to  recognize,  not  to  reproduce.  Inasmuch  as 
reproduction  may  take  place  without  recognition,  Ave  must 
ascribe  to  the  soul  a  poAver  of  reproduction  distinct  from 
the  j^ower  of  recognition,  that  is.  Phantasy  as  distinct 
from  Memory. 

**Many  children,"  says  Clarke,  "  especially  very  young  children, 
possess  the  power,  when  they  have  closed  their  eyes  in  the  dark,  of 
surrounding  themselves,  by  a  simple  act  of  volition,  with  a  panorama 
of  odd  sights.  The  objects  and  persons  evoked  are  not  of  a  definite 
character,  and  are  commonly  queer  and  strange.  They  come  in  a 
throng,  tumultuously,  and  disappear  on  opening  the  eyes.  Most 
children  who  possess  this  power  like  to  exercise  it  and  see  the  show 
which  they  can  call  up  in  the  darkness.  Others  are  unwilling  to 
exercise  it,  and  are  afraid  to  go  to  bed  in  a  dark  room,  on  account 
of  the  crowd  of  ugly  beings  which  float  in  the  air  around  them  as 
they  try  to  go  to  sleep." ^  De  Quincey,  the  writer  and  critic,  who 
was  aware  of  this  peculiarity  in  children,  speaks  of  it  in  connection 
with  the  effects  of  opium  upon  himself  :  "  The  first  notice,"  he  says, 
"  I  had  of  any  important  change  going  on  in  this  part  of  my  phys- 
ical economy  was  from  the  reawakening  of  a  state  of  eye  generally 
incident  to  childhood  or  exalted  states  of  irritability.  I  know  not 
whether  my  reader  is  aware  that  many  children,  perhaps  most,  have 
a  power  of  painting,  as  it  Avere,  upon  the  darkness  all  sorts  of  phan- 
toms ;  in  some  that  power  is  simply  a  mechanic  affection  of  the  eye; 
oth'^'rs  have  a  voluntary  or  semi-voluntary  power  to  dismiss  or  sum- 
mon them ;  or,  as  a  child  once  said  to  me,  when  I  questioned  him  on 
this  matter,  '  I  tell  them  to  go,  and  they  go ;  but  sometimes  they 
come  Avhen  I  don't  tell  them  to  come.'  Whereupon  I  told  him  that 
he  had  almost  as  unlimited  a  command  over  apparitions  as  a  Roman 
centurion  over  his  soldiers. "  ^  Dr.  Clarke  continues :  "An  acquaint- 
ance of  the  author,  who  is  now  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age, 
says  that  in  his  childhood,  after  closing  his  eyes  at  night,  he  could, 
and  often  did,  by  an  act  of  volition  call  troops  of  queer  forms  around 
him.  As  years  passed  on  and  manhood  approached,  he  lost  th& 
power  of  subjective  vision,  and  though  he  has  frequently  tried  since 
childhood  to  people  the  darkness  in  the  old  way,  be  has  never  been 
able  to  do  so." 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  86 

2.  The  Representative  Idea. 

The  character  of  the  representative  idea  is  variable, 
being  much  more  like  the  original  idea  obtained  through 
Sense-perception  in  some  persons  than  in  others.  It  tends 
to  become  more  dim  and  faint  also  with  the  progress  of 
age.  An  ingenious  English  scientific  investigator,  Fran- 
cis Galton  (1822-  ),  has  shown  by  means  of  answers 
to  questions  distributed  to  a  large  number  of  jiersons 
that  what  he  calls  ''visualization,"  or  ability  to  reproduce 
images,  varies  widely  among  persons  of  the  same  race 
and  age.  Among  the  results  of  Gallon's  inquiries  are 
three  of  special  interest :  [a)  Men  accustomed  to  abstract 
thinking  are  weak  in  visualizing  power ;  {h)  capacity 
for  vivid  reproduction  of  images  does  not  vary  with 
perceptual  power  in  the  use  of  the  senses  ;  and  (c)  it 
does  not  vary  with  the  tendency  to  dream.  In  gen- 
eral, we  may  say  of  the  representative  idea  reproduced  by 
Phantasy  : 

(1)  It  is  less  vividly  realized  than  the  original.  It  is 
usually  an  exaggeration  for  one  to  say  that  ideas  repro- 
duced are  as  vivid  as  perceived  objects,  still  it  is  certain 
that  in  exceptional  cases  there  is  a  near  approach  to  such 
distinctness. 

(2)  Representative  ideas  are  recombined  to  represent 
complex  objects  only  slowly  and  with  a  sense  of  effort, 
and  the  whole  does  not  at  once  stand  out  in  its  complete- 
ness before  consciousness.  Let  the  learner  try  to  recall 
the  whole  of  any  large  building  with  which  he  is  familiar 
and  this  will  be  illustrated. 

(3)  The  representative  image  usually  contains  fewer 
elements  than  the  original.     Sometimes  only  a  mere  frag- 


86  psychology: 

ment   remains.     At   other   times  every  detail  can,  with 
time^  be  reproduced. 

(4)  The  representative  idea  is  in  its  nature  an  idea,  not 
a  thing,  and  although  it  may  occasion  an  act  of  jorojection 
so  that  the  resulting  image  is  like  a  real  object,  still  the 
idea,  previous  to  such  projection,  is  not  like  the  original 
but  simply  rej^resents  it. 

An  idea  of  Galton's  method  may  be  gathered  from  the  following 
directions,  sent  out  to  the  persons  questioned  by  him  : 

"  Before  addressing  yourself  to  any  of  the  Questions  on  the  oppo- 
site page,  think  of  some  definite  object, — suppose  it  is  your  break- 
fast-table as  you  sat  down  to  it  this  morning — and  consider  carefully 
the  picture  that  rises  in  your  mind's  eye. 

"1.  Illumination. — Is  the  image  dim  or  fairly  clear?  Is  ita 
brightness  comparable  to  that  of  the  actual  scene  ? 

"2.  Definition. — Are  all  the  objects  pretty  well  defined  at  the 
same  time  ?  or  is  the  place  of  sharpest  definition  at  any  one  moment 
more  contracted  than  it  is  in  a  real  scene  ? 

*'3.  Coloring. — Are  the  colors  of  the  china,  of  the  toast,  bread- 
erust,  mustard,  meat,  parsley,  or  whatever  may  have  been  on  the 
table,  quite  distinct  and  natural  ?  " 

He  goes  on  to  say,  "  To  my  astonishment,  I  found  that  the  great 
majority  of  the  men  of  science  to  whom  I  first  applied  protested 
that  mental  imagery  was  unknown  to  them,  and  they  looked  on  me  as 
fanciful  and  fantastic  in  supposing  that  the  words  '  mental  imagery ' 
really  expressed  what  I  believed  everybody  supposed  them  to  mean. 
....  On  the  other  hand,  when  I  spoke  to  persons  whom  I  met  in 
general  society,  I  found  an  entirely  different  disposition  to  prevail. 
Many  men,  and  a  yet  larger  immber  of  women,  and  many  boys  and 
girls,  declared  that  they  habitually  saw  mental  imagery,  and  that  it 
was  perfectly  distinct  to  them  and  full  of  color."  He  was  led  to 
conclude,  ' '  that  an  over-ready  perception  of  sharp  mental  pictures 
is  antagonistic  to  the  acquirement  of  habits  of  highly-generalized 
and  abstract  thought,  especially  when  the  steps  of  reasoning  are 
carried  on  bywords  as  symbols."^  It  is  a  profitable  exercise  for 
each  member  of  the  class  to  state  how  representative  images  seetti 
to  him. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  87 


3.  The  Modes  of  Reprotlucing  Images. 

Altlioiigli  ideas  are  not  identical  with  single  images,  we 
can  best  approach  the  explanation  of  the  operation  of 
Phantasy  in  the  reproduction  of  ideas  by  considering  the 
three  modes  by  which  images  may  be  reproduced. 

(1)  Physical  Stimulation. — The  results  of  physical  stim- 
ulation, that  is,  of  original  action  upon  the  sense-organs  in 
perception,  sometimes  persist  in  the  nervous  organism  as 
''^after-sensations^^  a  considerable  time  after  the  original 
impression.  Prolonged  work  with  the  microscope  will 
cause  images  to  live  in  the  eye  for  many  hours  and  to 
recur  vividly  for  many  days.  The  echoing  of  a  song  in 
the  ear  some  time  after  the  singing  has  ceased  is  another 
example.  Sounds  have  been  known  to  ^'  ring ''  in  the  ears 
for  fifteen  days  after  musical  concerts.  Now  the  question 
is.  How  long  do  these  effects  continue  ?  May  they  not 
continue  forever  ?  They  certainly  do  not  continue  forever 
in  consciousness,  for  sights  and  sounds  usually  succeed 
one  another  without  interference,  and  such  conscious  per- 
sistence is  the  exception.  If  physical  stimulation  disposes 
a  part  of  the  nervous  organism  to  certain  states,  however, 
some  new  stimulation,  not  necessarily  physical,  may  re- 
vive them. 

On  the  effect  of  physical  stimulation,  Lewes  says  :  "According 
to  the  old  psychologists,  the  sensorium  is  a  '  chamber  of  images.'  a 
spiritual  picture-gallery,  preserving  all  the  scenes  and  events  that 
have  passed  before  sense  ;  no  impression  is  ever  lost ;  it  may  fade 
into  twilight,  or  vanish  in  the  darkness,  Init  it  keeps  its  place  in  the 
picture-gallery,  and  will  be  visible  every  time  the  closed  shutters  are 
re-opened.  This  is  obviously  no  explanation,  but  a  metaphorical 
re-statement  of  the  fact  observed.  What  calls  for  explanation  is 
the  contradiction  of  a  continued  persistence  in  consciousness  when 


88  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  persisting  states  are  unconscious,  and  the  capability  these  states 
have  of  suddenly,  after  many  years,  again  starting  into  conscious- 
ness. In  what  sense  can  we  admit  this  persistence  ?  The  conscious 
states  disappear  ;  the  feelings  as  feelings  no  more  exist  after  the 
subsidence  of  their  excitation  than  the  last  year's  roses  exist.  But 
something  remains.  The  organism  has  traces  of  its  past  excitations 
and  their  re-excitation  is  easy.  This  is  not  only  true  of  conscious 
experiences,  it  is  true  of  experiences  which  at  the  time  were  uncon- 
scious. Every  one  knows  how  the  objects  we  did  not  observe  in 
passing  along  the  street  may  be  vividly  seen  when  afterwards  we 
recall  that  passing.  There  are  also  cases  on  record  of  idiots  who 
under  acute  maladies  have  manifested  a  memory  of  events  and  ideas 
which  previously  they  had  not  seemed  to  notice  ;  scarcely  able  to 
articulate  a  few  words  in  their  ordinary  condition,  they  now  speak 
fluently  and  eagerly  of  events  which  passed  years  ago.  It  is  certain 
that  the  organism  is  modified  by  excitations ;  but  it  is  not  at  all  cer- 
tain that  the  feelings  which  accompany  or  result  from  such  excita- 
tions persist  after  the  subsidence  of  their  causes.  To  say  that  they 
still  continue  to  exist  in  the  mind  is  not  more  rational  than  to  say 
that  melodies  continue  to  exist  in  the  musical  instrument  after  the 
sonorous  vibrations  have  ceased,  or  that  the  complicated  and  fluent 
movements  of  a  fencer  continue  to  exist  after  he  has  laid  aside  the 
foils.  By  again  striking  the  notes  in  the  same  order  of  succession 
each  melody  may  be  reproduced  ;  by  again  taking  up  the  foil  the 
fencer  may  once  more  go  through  the  former  graceful  movements  ; 
and  so  by  stimulating  the  sensorium  again  its  reactions  may  be  re- 
produced. "^ 

(2)  Physiological  Stimulation. — Admitting  that  phys- 
ical stimulation  lias  jDre-disposed  the  organism  to  be 
thrown  into  certain  conditions,  we  may  accept  the  propo- 
sition of  Lewes,  that  ^^the  reinstatement  of  a  perception 
is  complete  when  the  original  conditions  of  that  percep- 
tion are  again  in  operation  ;  but  its  reinstatement  in  the 
form  of  an  image  of  the  object  is  only  partial,  because 
the  objective  sensible  conditions  are  not  reproduced."  If 
precisely   the   conditions  of  perception   were  reinstated, 


REPRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  89 

there  would  be  a  neiv  perception.  Assuming  in  the  organ- 
ism an  acquired  facility  for  certain  combinations,  and 
adding  the  physiological  stimulation  of  blood-supply, 
nervous  currents,  etc.,  for  normal  stimuli,  and  of  opium, 
alcohol  and  other  poisons,  for  abnormal  stimuli,  we  may 
be  able  to  account  theoretically  for  a  partial  reinstatement 
of  the  conditions  of  perception,  and  thus  explain  the  re- 
production of  images.  When  that  is  done,  however,  we 
find  ourselves  where  we  were  when  we  had  reached  the 
point  in  Sense-perception  where  a  physiological  condition 
becomes  a  psychical  condition,  where  a  state  of  the  organ- 
ism becomes  a  state  of  consciousness.  We  saw  there  that 
a  reaction  of  the  self-conscious  soul  was  necessary  to  the 
simplest  sensation  or  perception,  and  so  here  we  find  it 
necessary  to  add  to  the  physiological  conditions  of  repro- 
duction a  psychical  reaction. 

The  accumulation  of  observed  facts  is  now  so  great  and  has  been 
so  fully  subjected  to  analysis,  that  no  well-informed  person  can 
doubt  that  activity  of  brain  always  accompanies  activity  of  mind. 
This  is  shown  {a)  by  the  destruction  of  brain  tissue  in  all  intellectual 
operations,  showing  a  physical  decomposition  as  an  accomp§iniment 
of  psychical  action  ;  (6)  by  the  sense  of  fatigue  and  exhaustion  in  the 
nervous  system  after  prolonged  mental  effort,  and  (c)  by  the  renova- 
tion derived  from  rest  and  sleep  as  well  as  from  certain  specific 
nerve-foods.  It  may  be  further  stated  as  beyond  all  doubt,  that 
states  of  brain  at  all  times  affect  and  sometimes  determine  states 
of  mind.  This  is  proved  (a)  by  the  general  relation  between  intel- 
lectual power  and  the  size,  form  and  quality  of  the  brain  and  its 
attachments,  microcephalism  (abnormal  smallness  of  brain)  being  a 
mark  of  idiocy  and  certain  cerebral  conformations  usually  indicat- 
ing mental  deficiency;  (Jb)  by  the  results  of  vivisection  and  accident, 
showing  that  the  absence  or  injury  of  certain  parts  of  the  brain  and 
nervous  system  involves  the  total  loss  of  certain  psychical  powers, 
or  at  least  of  their  manifestation ;  and  (c)  by  diseases  of  the  brain 


90  PSYCHOLOGY. 

which  give  rise  to  impotency  or  confusion  of  mind,  varying  from 
slight  delirium  to  raving  insanity.  These  are  simple  facts  of  obser- 
vation which  every  form  of  psychical  doctrine  is  compelled  to  recog- 
nize, however  idealistic  its  tendencies  may  be,  and  to  which  it  must 
also  adjust  itself,  if  it  would  demand  scientific  credit. 

(3)  Psychical  Stimulation. — The  psychical  reaction  which 
we  have  seen  to  be  necessary  to  any  reproduction  of  ideas 
may  itself  reinstate  in  the  organism  some  of  the  condi- 
tions of  perception  so  as  to  recreate,  as  it  were,  a  very 
complete  image  of  an  absent  object.  Our  common  ex- 
perience illustrates  this  power  of  tlie  soul  to  determine 
conditions  of  the  organism.  Try  to  recall  vividly  the 
exterior  of  the  building  in  which  you  are  sitting,  and  you 
will  have  an  example  of  the  reproduction  of  a  series  of 
images  in  the  brain.  That  the  very  same  parts  are  af- 
fected as  were  involved  in  original  perception,  is  main- 
tained by  ^psychologists  as  widely  removed  in  their  expla- 
nations as  Hamilton  and  Maudsley.  The  proof  of  this  is 
thought  to  be  found  in  the  physical  effects  that  follow 
certain  ideas,  as  nausea  in  the  stomach  from  certain  dis- 
gusting ideas  of  food,  or  the  setting  of  the  teeth  on  edge 
by  the  idea  of  a  squeaky  saw,  or  the  puckering  of  the  lips 
from  the  idea  of  crab-apples.  We  not  only  induce  cer- 
tain images  in  the  j^hysical  organism,  but  we  have  some 
power  to  banish  them.  The  confusion  and  disorder  of 
images  in  dreams  and  delirium,  as  compared  with  the  order 
and  rational  direction  of  thought  when  consciousness  is 
under  voluntary  control,  show  that  connected  thought  is 
a  psychical,  not  a  cerebral,  process. 

The  power  of  psychical  reaction  is  sometimes  very  great.     Ni- 
colai,  of  Berlin,  whose  case  (1791)  has  become  well  known,  was  able 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  91 

to  produce  "ideational  cerebral  pictures,"  or  phantoms,  at  will. 
The  case  of  the  German  poet  Goethe  is  still  more  interesting  and  is 
thus  reported  by  himself:  "As  I  entered  my  sister's  house  for 
dinner,  I  could  scarcely  trust  my  eyes,  for  I  believed  I  saw  before 
me  a  picture  by  Ostade  so  distinctly  that  it  might  have  been  hang- 
ing in  a  gallery.  I  saw  here  actualized  the  position  of  objects,  the 
light  and  shade  and  brownish  tints  and  exquisite  harmony,  and  all 
which  is  so  much  admired  in  his  pictures.  This  was  the  first  time 
that  I  discovered,  in  so  high  a  degree,  the  gift,  which  I  afterwards 
used  with  more  complete  consciousness,  of  bringing  before  me  the 
characteristics  of  this  or  that  great  artist,  to  whose  works  I  had  de- 
voted great  attention.  This  faculty  has  given  me  great  enjoyment, 
but  it  has  also  increased  the  desire  of  zealously  indulging,  from  time 
to  time,  the  exercise  of  a  talent  which  nature  seems  to  have  prom- 
ised me."  ^  "  Dr.  Wigan  knew  a  painter  who  painted  three  hundred 
portraits,  large  and  small,  in  one  year.  The  seeming  impossibility 
of  such  a  feat  was  explained  by  the  fact  that  he  required  only  one 
sitting  and  painted  with  great  facility.  'When  a  sitter  came,'  said 
he,  '  I  looked  at  him  attentively  for  half  an  hour,  sketching  from 
time  to  time  on  the  canvas.  I  wanted  no  more — I  put  away  my 
eanvas  and  took  another  sitter.  When  I  wished  to  resume  my  first 
portrait,  I  took  the  man  and  set  him  in  the  chair,  where  I  saw  him 
as  distinctly  as  if  he  had  been  before  me  in  his  own  proper  pe7'son."  ^ 
A  somewhat  similar  story  is  related  of  the  sculptor  David.  Re- 
quested to  execute  the  bust  of  a  dying  woman,  without  exciting  her 
alarm,  he  presented  himself  as  a  jeweller's  man,  offering  some 
trinkets  for  her  inspection,  in  the  meantime  so  observing  her  features 
as  to  enable  him  to  reproduce  a  good  likeness.'  Such  cases  are  cer- 
tainly unusual  and  extraordinary,  but  they  show  that,  in  less  degree, 
the  soul  has  command  over  the  organism  in  the  reinstatement  of 
images. 

4.  Hallucination. 

It  is  now  easy  to  understand  the  nature  of  hallucina- 
tion. We  have  found  illusion  to  be  a  false  interpretation 
of  a  real  sense-impression  resulting  from  (a)  the  environ- 
ment, (h)  the  organism,  or  (c)  expectation.  Hallucination 
is  a  false  perception,  without  any  material  basis,  and  orig- 


92  PSTCHOLOOY. 

mates  in  the  soul  itself.  It  is  not  a  false  interpretation, 
but  a  false  projection  of  an  idea.  It  may  or  may  not  be 
accompanied  with  delusion,  which  is  a  false  belief.  We 
may  have  illusions  and  hallucinations  without  being  de- 
luded, if  we  do  not  believe  in  them  as  real. 

Sully,  in  his  work  on  "Illusions,"  cites  some  examples  of  hallu- 
cination. "Malebranche,  for  example,  is  said  to  have  heard  the 
voice  of  God  calling  him.  Descartes  says  that,  after  a  long  con- 
finement, he  was  followed  by  an  invisible  person,  calling  him  to 
pursue  his  search  after  truth.  Dr.  Johnson  narrates  that  he  once 
heard  his  absent  mother  calling  hipi.  Byron  tells  us  that  he  was 
sometimes  visited  by  spectres.  Goethe  records  that  he  once  saw  an 
exact  counterpart  of  himself  coming  towards  him.  .  .  .  The  hallu- 
cinations of  the  insane  are  but  a  fuller  manifestation  of  forces 
that  we  see  at  work  in  normal  life.  .  .  .  The  hallucinations  of  in- 
sanity are  due  to  a  projection  of  mental  images  which  have,  owing 
to  certain  circumstances,  gained  a  preternatural  persistence  and 
vividness.  Sometimes  it  is  the  images  that  have  been  dwelt  on  with 
passionate  longing  before  the  disease,  sometimes  those  which  have 
grown  most  habitual  through  the  mode  of  daily  occupation,  and 
sometimes  those  connected  with  some  incident  at  or  near  the  time  of 
the  commencement  of  the  disease."^  The  dividing-line  between 
sanity  and  insanity  is  where  illusions  and  hallucinations  cease  to  be 
recognized  as  such  and  the  person  becomes  the  victim  of  delusion, 
that  is,  of  false  belief. 

5.  Unconscious  Mental  Modifications. 

Sip  William  Hamilton  has  developed  Leibnitz's  doctrine 
of  '*  obscure  ideas  "  into  a  theory  of  *'  unconscious  activi- 
ties  of  mind,"  Avhich  he  employs  to  explain  the  reproduc- 
tion of  ideas.  According  to  him,  ideas  are  possessions  of 
the  mind,  but  pass  into  a  condition  of  ''latency  "  from 
which  they  are  recalled  into  a  condition  of  ^'  conscious- 
ness.'"^  ^^  Extensive  systems  of  knowledge  may,  in  our 
ordinary  state,  lie  latent  in  the  mind  beyond  the  sphere 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  93 

of  consciousness  and  will ;  but  in  certain  extraordinary 
states  of  organism,  may  again  come  forward  into  the  liglit, 
and  even  engross  the  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  its  every- 
day possessions/'^  Hamilton's  arguments  for  this  doctrine 
are  :  {a)  The  ability  to  recall  events  long  after  every  trace 
seems  to  have  passed  away ;  {]))  the  minimum  object  visi- 
ble can  be  divided  into  parts  which  singly  cannot  be  seen, 
but  which  must  together  affect  the  power  of  perception, 
so  that  every  effect  is  made  up  of  causes  below  conscious- 
ness ;  (c)  a  practiced  musician  is  not  conscious  of  every 
movement  or  note  in  his  music,  and  yet  the  whole  is  made 
up  of  these  parts  ;  and  {d)  in  a  train  of  ideas  we  often 
leap  over  several  without  being  conscious  of  them,  but  can 
afterward  repeat  the  train  with  full  consciousness.  In 
answer  to  all  this  it  seems  necessary  to  say  simply,  that 
we  are  either  conscious  of  an  idea,  or  we  are  not ;  if  we 
are,  it  is  not  latent ;  if  we  are  not,  it  is  not  an  element  of 
mind  at  all.  That  which  renders  a  state  psychical  is  that 
we  are  conscious  of  it. 

Bascom  seems  to  have  refuted  Hamilton  in  the  following  passage: 
**  Mental  and  physical  phenomena  are  cut  broadly  and  deeply  apart 
by  the  fact  that  the  one  class  appears  exclusively  in  consciousness, 
and  the  other  as  exclusively  out  of  consciousness.  The  last  are 
actual  or  possible  objects  of  some  organ  of  perception,  are  some- 
where located  in  space,  and  thus  open  to  the  outside  action  of  mind 
through  the  senses  ;  the  first  are  within  the  mind,  evincing  their 
existence  exclusively  by  their  effects  in  consciousness.  Not  to  ex- 
hibit anywhere,  to  any  actual  or  supposable  organ  of  sense,  any 
phenomena,  is,  in  the  physical  world,  not  to  exist.  Existence  is 
affirmed  only  on  the  ground  of  some  effects,  however  subtile,  in 
sensible  objects,  and  directly  or  indirectly,  in  organs  of  perception. 
We  never  hear  of  physical  facts  above  or  below  space,  beyond  all 
possible  tests  of  perception  ;  since  such  phenomena  would  be  utterly 
unable  to  manifest  this  existence,  to  give  any  proof  of  it.  .  The  very 


94  PSYCHOLOGY. 

notion  of  physical  being  arises  from  tliat  of  })hysieal  effects,  under 
suitable  circumstances  open  to  observation.  Thus  also  should  men- 
tal phenomena  be  regarded.  There  is  likewise  only  one  known  field 
for  these, — consciousness.  All,  aside  from  physical  facts,  that  oc- 
curs outside  of  this,  is  necessarily  unknowable.  An  alleged  fact, 
which  is  to  be  found  anywhere  as  a  fact,  has  but  two  avenues 
through  which  it  can  make  itself  known, — the  senses  and  conscious- 
ness. ...  To  assert,  therefore,  the  existence  of  other  modifications 
or  changes  than  those  which  respond  to  these  two  methods  of  know- 
ing, is  to  affirm  some  third  field  wherein  events  happen  whose  nature 
is  utterly  unknown  to  us,  and  of  whose  being  we  can  at  most  have 
only  an  hypothetical  and  inferential  knowledge."  ^^ 

6.  Unconscious  Cerebration. 

William  B.  Carpenter  (1813-1885),  an  eminent  English 
physiologist,  has  substituted  for  Hamilton's  theory  of 
^^unconscious  mental  modifications '''  a  theory  of  "  uncon- 
scious cerebration,"  using  the  term  ''  cerebration  "  to  sig- 
nify the  automatic  activity  of  the  cerebrum,  or  brain.  ^^ 
He  holds  that  we  are  conscious  of  a  part  of  the  activities 
of  the  brain,  of  another  j^art  we  are  not  conscious.  The 
trains  of  ideas  are,  therefore,  liable  to  interruption  by  a 
discontinuance  of  consciousness  as  to  what  some  part  of 
the  brain  is  doing,  and  by  the  sudden  emergence  into 
consciousness  of  what  the  brain  has  done  without  our 
knowledge.  We  cannot  deny  the  activity  of  the  brain, 
but  we  may  very  well  deny  that  its  movements  control 
our  trains  of  ideas.  We  are  conscious  of  the  ability  to 
direct  the  activities  of  the  brain,  as  we  have  already 
shown.  Besides,  we  have  no  evidence  that  the  brain 
elaborates  ^' ideas, 'Mvhich  we  have  seen  to  be  psychical 
products,  and,  therefore,  psychical  states,  not  cerebral 
states.  The  brain  does,  however,  serve  as  the  organ  for 
producing  ^^  mental  imagery." 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  95 

We  shall  return  to  tlic  consideration  of  unconscious  cerebration 
in  our  treatment  of  Will,  in  Part  III,  and  need  not  discuss  it  any 
farther  in  this  connection.  The  reason  for  this  postponement  of  the 
subject  is,  that  we  shall  find  in  the  processes  of  elaborative  knowl- 
edge and  in  the  activities  of  Will  grounds  for  believing  that  cerebra- 
tion does  not  wholly  determine  psychical  states,  but  that  certain 
psychical  states  determine  cerebration. 

7.  Dreams  and  Reverie. 

In  dreams  and  reverie^,  we  experience  a  desultory^,  dis- 
connected^ and  sometimes  grotesque  and  disordered  flow 
of  ideas,  wliich  we  may  believe  to  be  suggested  by  phys- 
ical causes.  Excitement,  hunger  and  indigestion  are  well 
known  causes  of  dreams.  In  these  phenomena  there  is 
consciousness,  but  not  self-direction.  The  Will  is  usually 
powerless  in  dreams.  But  in  our  waking  moments,  when 
the  Will  is  in  command,  the  course  of  ideas  is  self-directed 
and  rational.  Our  ideas  are  ordered  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  conscious  and  self-formed  purposes.  This  shows 
the  prominence  of  the  j^sychical  factor  and  demonstrates 
that,  although  Phantasy  employs  the  organic  mechanism 
in  reproducing  ideas,  it  is  a  psychical,  not  an  organic 
activity.  Without  the  elements  of  consciousness  and 
attention,  ideas  are  not  reproduced.  Cerebration  is  an 
aid  to  vivid  reproduction,  but  reproduction  is,  in  the  last 
analysis,  a  process  of  the  soul. 

That  cerebral  action  is  but  the  servant  of  the  soul  is  evident 
from  another  point  of  view.  ' '  The  vital  power  in  many  and  cun- 
ning combinations  precedes  the  nervous  system.  This  system  has 
been  from  the  beginning  simply  the  means  to  farther  development 
in  a  direction  previously  indicated.  The  automatic  action  of  the 
nervous  system  has  preceded  by  a  long  period  its  conscious  action. 
Consciousness  has  been  superinduced  on  a  system  relatively  complete 
withm  itself.     The  higher  is  not  added  for  the  sake  of  the  lower  ; 


96  PSYCHOLOGY. 

but  the  lower  is  put  to  the  uses  of  the  higher.  So  true  is  this  that 
the  organ  of  consciousness,  even  after  it  has  been  woven  into  tlie 
nervous  web  below  it,  can  be  removed,  and  a  large  portion  of  auto- 
matic action  remains.  That  the  last  sensor  state  in  its  passage  into 
the  cerebrum,  is  not  united  causally  to  the  first  motor  stimuli  issuing 
from  it,  is  probable  :  for  {a)  if  this  were  true,  the  cerebrum  would 
simply  repeat  the  functions  of  lower  ganglia  ;  and  (&)  in  that  case, 
consciousness  would  be  a  superfluous  addition.  Plainly,  conscious- 
ness intervenes  between  the  two  in  a  way  that  interrupts  simply 
automatic  connections.     In  this  fact  lies  its  entire  significancy."  ^* 


8.  The  Operation  of  Phantasy. 

Phantasy,  as  the  power  of  reproducing  ideas,  is  the 
power  which  the  soul  possesses  to  create  in  itself  states 
similar  to  those  experienced  before,  on  the  presentation  of 
a  suitable  occasion.     That  occasion  may  be  either  : 

(1)  The  next  previous  state  in  which  the  soul  finds 
itself,  so  that  the  soul  reproduces  an  idea  under  the  law 
of  habit,  reviving  a  mode  of  consciousness  in  which  it  has 
been  before;  or 

(2)  A  condition  of  the  nervous  system,  furnishing  a 
ground  of  reaction  similar  to  that  furnished  by  an  orig- 
inal sense-impression;  or 

(3)  A  new  perception,  placing  the  soul  in  conditions 
favorable  for  the  reproduction  of  a  given  idea  under  the 
law  of  habit. 

In  any  case,  it  is  a  reaction  of  the  conscious  self  that 
reproduces  the  idea  and,  through  its  connection  with  the 
physical  organism,  it  can  reinstate  some,  in  rare  instance? 
all,  of  the  physical  conditions  of  perception.  As  thus 
explained,  ideas  have  no  separate  and  substantive  exist- 
ence, but  are  reproduced  in  consciousness  by  a  reaction  of 
the  soul  similar  to  that  which  originally  produced  them. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  9? 

This  doctrine  is  a  repudiation  of  every  theory  of  retention, 

i&ystical,  like  Hamilton's  "  unconscious  modifications  of  mind,"  or 
materialistic,  like  that  of  "  unconscious  cerebration."  Ideas  are  not 
in  any  exact  sense  retained  by  the  mind.  If  retained  at  all,  they 
are  retained  out  of  the  mind,  but  then  they  lose  their  character  as 
ideas  and  so  are  not  retained  ideas.  Dispositions  of  the  brain  may 
be  retained,  but  ideas  are  not.  Ideas  are  capable  of  being  repro- 
duced, and  when  we  have  said  that  we  have  said  all  that  is  neces- 
sary. The  soul  possesses  no  special  "  conservative  faculty,"  as 
Hamilton  calls  it,  or  "  retentive  faculty,"  as  IVIcCosh  calls  it.  The 
soul  has  power  to  rejjroduce  ideas  which  do  not  exist  anywhere 
except  in  itself  when  it  reproduces  them.  The  speculations  about 
retention  are  the  first  crude  gropings  of  thought  after  the  explana- 
tion of  the  mystery  which  the  poet  has  so  beautifully  expressed  in 
this  passage  : 

"  Who  shall  say, 
Whence  are  those  thoughts,  and  whither  tends  their  way  ; 
The  sudden  images  of  vanished  things 
That  o'er  the  spirit  flash,  we  know  not  why  ? 
Tones  from  some  broken  harp's  deserted  strings- 
Warm  sunset  hues  of  summers  long  gone  by— 
A  rippling  wave— the  dashing  of  an  oar— 
A  flower-scent  floating  past  our  parent's  door— 
A  word— scarce  noted  in  its  hour,  perchance. 
Yet  back  returning  with  a  plaintive  tone — 
A  smile— a  sunnj^  or  a  mournful  glance 
Full  of  sweet  meanings,  now  from  this  world  flown  ; 
Are  not  these  mysteries,  when  to  life  they  start. 
And  press  vain  tears  in  gushes  from  the  heart  ?  " 

In  treating  of  Phantasy,  we  have  spoken  of  "  images,"  in  order 
to  convey  definite  impressions.  This  word  is  borrowed  from  the 
visual  sense  and  usually  suggests  it.  But  we  can  reproduce  ideas 
of  all  our  past  experiences,  whether  capable  of  reduction  to  the 
form  of  an  image  or  not. 

"  Music,  when  soft  voices  die. 
Vibrates  in  the  memory  ; 
Odors,  when  sweet  violets  sicken, 
Live  within  the  sense  they  quicken," — 

is  a  poetical  presentation  of  this  truth.  It  is  not  quite  scientific. 
The  mind  cannot  really  revive  an  odor,  but  the  idea  of  an  odor. 


98  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Th.'it  a  psychical  reaction  can  reinstate  some  of  the  physical  condi- 
tions, we  liave  already  seen  ;  still  the  reproduction  is  ideal,  not  real. 
'*  Odors  "  do,  indeed,  "  live  within  the  sense  they  quicken  "  for  some 
time,  but  finally  wholly  die  away,  and  no  idealist  can  convince  him- 
self that  his  idea  of  violets  is  able  to  overpower  and  destroy  the 
realistic  odors  in  his  nostrils  which  he  finds  disgusting.  We  do  not, 
really  and  physically,  reproduce  sensations,  but  ideas  of  sensations, 
that  is,  states  of  soul,  not  peripheral  excitations  of  the  organism. 
The  idea  of  a  sensation  bears  some  relation  to  the  sensation  which  it 
represents,  else  it  would  not  be  an  idea  of  it,  but  it  differs  greatly 
from  the  sensation  itself.  Happily,  our  most  painful  sensations, 
like  those  of  a  terrible  tooth-ache,  pass  away  so  that  the  idea  of  our 
past  sufferings  still  serves  to  warn  us  of  what  is  painful  without 
keeping  us  in  constant  agony.  We  can  reproduce  more  vivid  ideas 
of  our  pleasurable  than  of  our  painful  sensations.  A  reason  for  this 
is  that,  as  we  shall  see  in  another  connection,  painful  sensation  in- 
volves an  injury  to  the  organism  and  pleasurable  sensation  is  a  nor- 
mal stimulation  augmenting  development,  so  that  a  sound  organism 
cannot  so  easily  reproduce  abnormal  as  normal  conditions. 


9.  The  Relation  of  Phantasy  to  Education. 

Phantasy  lias  a  twofold  interest  to  the  educator  (1)  be- 
cause of  its  aid  to  other  powers,  and  (2)  because  it  is  itself 
capable  of  training. 

(1)  Phantasy  as  an  aid  to  other  powers. — The  continu- 
ity and  progress  of  intellectual  life  depend  entirely  upon 
the  reproduction  of  ideas.  If  we  lived  in  present  percep- 
tions only,  Memory,  Imagination,  and  all  the  Elaborative 
Powers  would  be  without  materials.  Even  in  the  study 
of  the  physical  sciences,  which  seem  the  most  objective  and 
presentative  of  all  the  sciences,  reproduction  of  ideas  is 
necessary  for  those  comparisons  and  classifications  without 
which  a  science  cannot  exist.  No  science  consists  of  a 
mere  accumulation  of  facts,  but  of  facts  organized  by  the 
mind  into  a  system  of  truth.     More  than  half  of   any 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  99 

science  is  a  mental  contribution.  Phantasy  is  not  less 
necessary  for  the  orator  and  writer  than  for  the  man  of 
science.  They  require  in  the  hearer  or  reader  a  store  of 
representative  ideas  so  associated  with  words  that  language 
has  the  power  to  revive  the  images  of  things  in  the  mind, 
as  materials  of  persuasion,  conviction,  or  entertainment. 
The  young  take  great  delight  in  the  simplest  tale,  if  it  be 
full  of  concrete,  graphic  and  image-awakening  words.  At 
every  period  of  life  there  is  a  semi-sensuous  pleasure  in 
effective  word-painting,  which  is  nothing  else  than  the 
awakening  of  Phantasy  to  activity  through  the  power  of 
language.  Whoever  possesses  a  mastery  of  this  art  invests 
his  speech  with  a  charm  that  redoubles  the  force  of  ab- 
stract thinking. 

(2)  The  Training  of  Phantasy. — Phantasy  serves  the 
highest  purpose  when  it  most  accurately  reproduces  ideas 
of  past  experiences.  It  has  its  natural  limitations  and  we 
resort  to  such  aids  as  pictures,  charts,  diagrams,  and  fig- 
ures of  speech,  especially  metaphor  and  simile,  to  assist 
us  in  reproducing  past  impressions  in  the  form  of  images. 
A  text-book  is  a  collection  of  such  helps  to  give  us  in 
brief  space  the  substance  of  a  science.  A  book  on  Geog- 
raphy is  not  like  the  earth^s  surface,  but  it  describes  and, 
in  a  sense,  represents  to  the  learner  the  earth^s  surface. 
Dependence  upon  diagrams  and  collocations  of  words  on  a 
page  that  may  be  ''  held  in  the  eye,"  serves  us  temporarily 
in  passing  an  examination,  but  leaves  us  afterwards  with 
no  residuum  of  solid  knowledge.  It  constitutes  what  is 
known  among  teachers  as  "cram."  It  should  be  dis- 
couraged in  every  form,  though  it  has  been  defended  by 
the  short-sighted  as  stimulating  the  mind  to  rapid  acqui- 
sition and  so  energizing  the  faculties.     To  be  useful  in 


100  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  service  of  the  higher  faculties^  Phantasy  must  be 
trained  to  the  accurate  representation  of  things  as  they 
are.  This  requires  deliberate  and  patient  attention  to 
details  and  to  the  real  objects  about  which  we  study. 
After  this^  charts,  diagrams,  summaries  and  other  abbrevi- 
ated forms  of  representation  are  valuable  in  condensing 
and  systematizing  what  we  have  learned  in  detail.  The 
method  of  reciting  from  a  page  of  text  '^  photographed 
in  the  eye/'  is  as  pernicious  as  any  method  can  be.  It  is 
a  substitution  of  mere  images  for  connected  thoughts. 

**  Phantasy  "  is  the  original  form  of  the  word  "  fancy,"  which 
the  Ehzabethan  dramatist,  Ben  Jonson,  spells  '' pliantsie""  in  his 
hne, 

"Break,  Phantsie,  from  thy  cave  of  cloud." 

The  ancient  sense  of  the  word  justifies  the  use  of  it  to  designate  the 
power  of  reproducing  ideas.  Lord  Monboddo  (1714-1779)  says  : 
"How  various  soever  the  pictures  oi  fancy,  the  materials,  according 
to  some,  are  all  derived  from  sense  ;  so  that  the  maxim, — Nihil  est  in 
intellectu  nisi  prius  fuerit  in  sensu, — There  is  nothing  in  the  intellect 
which  had  not  been  previously  in  the  sense, — though  not  true  of  the 
intellect,  holds  with  regard  to  the  phantasy.''  ^^  Dugald  Stewart 
thus  distinguishes  between  Imagination  and  Fancy  :  "The  office  ot 
fancy  is  to  collect  materials  for  the  imagination;  and,  therefore,  the 
latter  power  presupposes  the  former,  while  the  former  does  not  nec- 
essarily suppose  the  latter.  A  man  whose  habits  of  association  pre- 
sent to  him,  for  illustrating  or  embellishing  a  subject,  a  number  of 
resembling  or  analogous  ideas,  we  call  a  man  of  fancy  ;  but  for  an 
effort  of  imagination,  various  other  powers  are  necessary,  particu- 
larly the  powers  of  taste  and  judgment  ;  without  which  we  can  hope 
to  produce  nothing  that  will  be  a  source  of  pleasure  to  others.  It  is 
the  power  of  fancy  which  supplies  the  poet  with  metaphorical  lan- 
guage, and  with  all  the  analogies  which  are  the  foundation  of  his 
allusions  ;  but  it  is  the  power  of  imagination  that  creates  the  com- 
plex scenes  he  describes  and  the  fictitious  characters  he  delineates. 
To  fancy  we  apply  the  epithets  of  rich  or  luxuriant ;  to  imagination, 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLMpGE.  \x)i 

those  of  beautiful  or  sublime."  ^'^  Literary  critics  distinguisli  between 
a  "  work  of  fancy"  and  a  "work  of  imagination."  Tlie  ground 
of  discrimination  between  tlie  '-fanciful"  and  the  "imaginative" 
in  literature  is  excellently  described  in  the  following  passage  by  the 
poet  Wordsworth  :  "  Fancy  does  not  require  that  the  materials 
which  she  makes  use  of  should  be  susceptible  of  change  in  their 
constitution  from  her  touch  ;  and,  where  they  admit  of  modifica- 
tion, it  is  enough  for  her  purpose  if  they  be  slight,  limited  and  evan- 
escent. Directly  the  reverse  of  these  are  the  desires  and  demands 
of  the  imagination.  She  recoils  from  everything  but  the  plastic, 
the  pliant  and  the  indefinite."  ^^  We  shall  resume  the  distinction  be- 
tween Fancy  and  Imagination  in  our  treatment  of  the  latter  power, 
in  Section  IV  of  this  chapter. 

In  this  section,  on  Phantasy,  we  have  considered  :— 

1,  Definition  and  Nature  of  JPhantasy, 

2,  The  Represefitative  Idea. 

3,  Tlie  modes  of  Mejjroducing  Images, 

4,  Hallucination. 

5,  Unconscious  Mental  Modifications, 

6,  Unconscious  Cerebration. 

7,  Dreams  and  Reverie. 

8,  The  Operation  of  Phantasy. 

9,  The  Melation  of  Phantasy  to  Education. 

References  :  (1)  Clarke's  Visions,  p.  212.    (2)  De  Quincey's  Confess 
sions,  p.  109.     (3)  Galton's  Inquiry  into  Human  FaculUj,  pp.  84,  86. 

(4)  Lewes'  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  Third   Series,  pp.  55,  56. 

(5)  Goethe's  Autobiography,  p.  65.  (6)  Lewes'  Problems,  p.  455, 
(7)  Id.,  p.  456.  (8)  Sully's  Illusions,  pp.  116,  117.  (9)  Hamilton's 
Lectures  on  lletaphysics,  p.  236.  (10)  Bascom's  Science  of  3Iind, 
pp.  34,  35.  (11)  Carpenter's  Mental  Physiology,  p.  514  et  seq. 
(12)  Bascom's  Science  of  Mind,  p.  398.  (13)  Monboddo's  Ancient 
Metaphysics,  Book  II.,  Chapter  7.  (14)  Stewart's  Elements  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  Chapter  5.  (15)  Wordsworth's 
Preface  to  his  Works, 


M  PSYCHOLOGY, 


SECTION    III. 

MEMORY. 

1.  Definition  of  Memory. 

Memory  is  the  soul's  power  to  recognize  objects  and 
ideas,  or  to  know  them  again  as  having  once  been  known. 
It  ^presupposes  PercejDtion  and  Phantasy.  We  may  per- 
ceive objects  and  reproduce  ideas  known  by  us  in  the  23ast 
either  with  or  without  recognition.  It  adds  greatly  to  the 
clearness  of  psychological  analysis  to  consider  ^Memory  as 
the  power  of  7'ecognition  alone,  instead  of  regarding  it  as 
including  conservative^  reproductive,  and  recognitive 
functions,  as  most  psychologists  do. 

All  the  older  writers  offer  an  imperfect  analysis  of  representa- 
tive knowledge,  attributing  to  Memory  a  great  variety  of  functions. 
Even  Sully,  from  whom  we  should  expect  careful  analysis,  treats  ol 
the  phenomena  of  Phantasy  and  Memory  together,  %vith  little  dis- 
crimination, under  the  awkward  title,  "Reproductive  Imagination 
(Memory),"  and  says,  "  What  is  commonly  understood  by  Memory, 
that  is  to  say  the  recalling  of  particular  impressions  and  pieces  of 
knowledge  (as  distinguished  from  the  retention  of  general  truths) 
thus  falls  under  the  head  of  reproductive  imagination."^  Dewey, 
who  more  clearly  defines  Memory  as  "  knowledge  of  particular 
things  once  present,  but  no  longer  so,"  fails  to  attain  perfect  clear- 
ness, (1)  because  Memory  may  act  upon  something  that  is  actually 
present,  as  when  I  recognize  to-day  the  man  I  met  yesterday  ;  (2)  be- 
cause there  may  be  "  knowledge  of  particular  things  or  events  once 
present,  but  no  longer  so, "  witJiout  Memory,  as  when  I  have  in  con- 
sciousness the  images  of  past  objects  and  events  revived  by  Phan- 
tasy and  distinguish  and  reflect  upon  them,  without  recogniziiig 
them  as  ever  having  been  known  by  me  before.  His  definition  ap- 
plies as  well  to  reverie  as  it  does  to  Memory.  The  true  distinctior. 
he  admits  without  embracing  it  in  his  definition,  when  he  says  ; 


REPRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  103 

"The  association  of  ideas  only  accounts  for  the  preserice  of  the  ob- 
ject or  event.  The  other  half  is  the  reference  of  its  present  image 
to  some  past  reality.  In  memory  we  re-cognize  its  presence  ;  i.  e., 
we  know  that  it  has  been  a  previous  element  of  our  experience.  We 
place  the  image  in  the  train  of  our  past  experiences,  we  give  it  some 
tempo7'al  relation  ;  we  refer  it  to  some  real  object  once  perceived."  ^ 
This  is  precisely  the  function  of  Memory. 

2.  Perfect  and  Imperfect  Memory. 

There  are  perfect  and  imperfect  acts  of  Memory.  A 
perfect  act  of  Memory  would  involve  a  reference  of  an 
object  or  an  idea  to  its  original  grouping,  that  is,  a  recog- 
nition of  the  time  and  place  when  and  tvliere  the  object  or 
idea  was  known  before.  Most  of  our  acts  of  Memory  are 
imperfect ;  that  is,  we  know  many  objects  and  ideas  as 
having  been  known  before  without  being  able  to  assign  to 
them  their  precise  times  and  places.  For  example,  I  meet 
a  man  on  the  street  to-day  and  recognize  his  face  as  one 
that  I  have  seen  before.  If  I  can  tell  when  and  where,  I 
have  two  elements  of  knowledge  in  addition  to  the  recog- 
nition of  the  face.  An  absolutely  perfect  act  of  Memory 
would  involve  the  complete  reinstatement  of  the  psychical 
conditions  that  attended  the  organization  of  the  item  of 
knowledge  at  the  time  when  it  was  first  known. 

The  German  phrenologist,  F.  J.  Gall  (1758-1828),  went  so  far  as 
to  assign  to  each  faculty  its  own  memory,  and  he  has  been  followed 
in  this  by  most  modern  physiological  psychologists  who  treat  Mem- 
ory as  an  attribute  of  the  organism,  assigning  a  memory  to  every 
part  and  organ  of  the  body,  as  the  "  memory  of  the  hand"  in  play- 
ing an  instrument,  because  the  hand  seems  to  recall  and  repeat  its 
previmis  motions  without  conscious  direction.  This  is  a  result  that 
might  naturally  be  expected  from  the  traditional  mode  of  treating 
Memory  as  a  reproducing  power.  The  moment  we  think  of  it  only 
as  a  recognizing  power,  or  power  to  know  what  has  been  known 


104  PSYCHOLOGY. 

before,  it  is  lifted  out  of  this  mere  meclianical  order  and  it  is  evi- 
(le?it  that  it  can  belong  only  to  a  conscious  being,  capable  of  know- 
ing and  of  knowing  itself  as  having  known.  Nothing  like  this  can 
1)0  predicated  of  the  hand,  or  the  ear,  or  the  eye,  or  any  other  bodily 
organ.  When  we  speak  of  the  musician's  "  memory  of  the  ear"  or 
the  artist's  "  memory  of  the  eye,''  we  are  using  figurative  language, 
poetical  rather  than  scientific  expressions.  Many  of  these  special 
powers  depend  upon  a  vivid  Phantasy.  That  there  are  different  de- 
grees of  ability  to  reproduce  ideas  of  different  orders,  there  can  be 
no  doubt,  one  being  able  to  reproduce  visual  and  another  auditory 
ideas  better  than  others.  Thus  Mozart  could  write  out  the  Miserere 
from  hearing  it  twice  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  Vernet  could  paint 
pictures  from  recalled  impressions.  The  French  psychologist,  H.  A. 
Taine  (1828-  ),  has  given  numerous  examples  of  special  memo- 
ries, which  he  very  ingeniously  tries  to  explain  on  a  physiological 
basis.  ^ 

3.  Memory  of  Time. 

The  element  of  time  is  essential  to  every  act  of  Mem- 
ory. We  recognize  only  what  we  have  known  before,  that 
is,  at  some  jieriod  of  past  time.  As  we  have  seen,  an  act 
of  Memory  does  not  necessarily  involve  the  knowledge  of 
the  definite  time  when  an  object  or  idea  was  previously 
known,  but  this  is  necessary  in  perfect  acts  of  Memory. 
In  order,  then,  that  any  act  of  Memory  should  occur,  the 
conscious  self  must  know  itself  as  liaving  been,  as  well  as 
heing.  It  must  also  distinguish  itself  from  the  successive 
events,  or  conscious  states,  of  the  past.  The  concej^tion 
of  the  soul  as  ^^a  series  of  sensations"  renders  any  theory 
of  Memory  impossible.  There  are  two  aspects  of  time 
that  have  to  be  considered  in  giving  definiteness  to  the 
time-element  in  Memory,  (1)  succession,  or  the  order  in 
which  past  knowledge  has  arisen,  and  (2)  duration,  or  the 
continuance  of  an  experience.  Let  us  examine  them  sep- 
arately. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  105 

(1)  Succession. — We  can  assign  to  items  of  past  knowl- 
edge a  position  in  an  order  of  snccession.  How  are  Ave 
able  to  do  this  ?  AYe  might  conceivably  do  it  by  reproduc- 
ing every  element  in  our  entire  past  experience.  We 
evidently  do  not  repeat  our  Avhole  experience.  We  do, 
however,  reproduce  ideally  certain  portions  of  our  past 
experience  and  assign  to  a  given  item  of  knowledge  its 
position  in  that  ideal  order.  Thus,  if  I  wish  to  know 
ichcn  I  saw  the  man  whose  face  I  recognize  to-day,  I  try 
to  reproduce  the  ideas  associated  with  this  face  until  I 
come  upon  an  order  of  ideas  w^ith  which  I  can  connect  the 
remembered  face.  I  then  locate  my  previous  perception 
of  it  in  that  ideal  order.  In  this  I  clearly  distinguish  self 
from  the  order  of  ideas  and  exemplify  in  self  a  relating 
activity  that  is  not  found  in  the  spontaneous  operation  of 
Phantasy. 

(2)  Duration. — We  are  able  to  know  past  experiences  as 
having  occupied  a  certain  duration.  Waiting  for  a  train, 
we  have,  when  the  train  arrives,  some  estimate  of  the 
*^  length  of  time  ^^  during  which  we  have  been  waiting. 
This  estimate  is,  however,  wholly  relative  and  seems 
"long^"  or  ^'^  short  ^^  according  to  circumstances.  Time 
passes  quickly  when  we  are  much  interested,  slowly  when 
we  have  nothing  to  do  but  wait  and  expect.  This  seems 
to  depend  upon  the  extent  to  which  the  attention  dwells 
on  the  time-relation.  When  we  are  occupied  with  objects 
and  ideas,  we  take  little  note  of  time  ;  when  we  have 
nothing  else  to  do,  we  concentrate  attention  upon  the 
passing  moments  and  thus  time  seems  *^^ longer."  The 
knowledge  of  duration  implies  self- duration,  or  the  per- 
manence of  self  during  the  states  of  consciousness  that 
succeed  one  another. 


106  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Something  has  been  done  toward  determining  the  amount  of  time 
required  for  acts  of  Memory,  inchiding  as  inseparable  the  act  of 
reproduction  and  the  act  of  recognition.  The  results  so  far  are  not 
very  satisfactory  ;  if.  indeed,  the  conditions  of  the  problem  admit 
of  their  ever  being  entirely  so.  Those  who  are  interested  will  find 
the  following  references  useful  :  llibot's  "  German  Psychology  of  To- 
jiay,"  pp.  272,  274;  Galton's  "Inquiry  into  Human  Faculty,"  pp. 
U85,  202  ;  and  an  article  by  an  American  psychologist,  G.  Stanley 
Hall  (1845-  ),  in  "Mind"  for  January,  1886.  For  "rhythm"  in 
our  knowledge  of  Time,  see  Dewey's  "Psychology,"  pp.  185,  187. 


4.  Voluntary  and  Involuntary  Memory. 

We  distinguish  between  recollection  and  remembrance. 

The  difference  is  that  recollection  is  voluntary,  remem- 
brance is  involuntary.  I  am  sometimes  able  to  ^^  recollect " 
when  I  do  not  ^^  remember.  ^^  Recollection  is,  however, 
something  more  than  an  act  of  Memory.  It  is  a  volun- 
tary act  of  reproduction  followed  by  an  act  of  recognition. 
For  example,  I  wish  to  recall  the  name  of  a  man  whom  I 
have  met  but  whose  name  I  do  not  at  the  moment  remem- 
ber. I  cannot  directly  reproduce  it  by  an  act  of  Will,  for 
I  do  not  know  what  it  is.  I  fix  the  attention  upon  that 
which  I  suppose  to  be  closely  associated  with  what  I  am 
seeking, — the  appearance  of  the  man,  the  place  where  I 
met  him,  the  person  who  introduced  him,  or  whatever  else 
is  already  in  consciousness  and  is  the  ground  of  my  want- 
ing the  name.  The  reproductive  power  is  thus  energized 
and  in  the  course  of  its  operation  the  name  occurs  to  con- 
sciousness and  is  recognized.  That  the  reproductive  and 
the  recognitive  processes  are  distinct,  is  evident  from  the 
fact  that  we  finally  select  out  of  several  possible  names 
suggested  by  Phantasy  one  which  we  recognize  as  the  one 
sought  for.     Sometimes  the  power  to  reproduce  the  name 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  107 

is  wanting^  and  then  we  are  unable  to  recollect.  We  may, 
however,  remember  it  at  some  other  time  when  the  name 
is  spontaneously  or  accidentally  reproduced.  AYe  are 
often  compelled  to  wait  for  the  spontaneous  action  of  the 
reproductive  power. 

5.  Amnesia,  or  Loss  of  Memory. 

Amnesia  (from  the  Greek  a,  alplia,  implying  depriva- 
tion, and  uvrjacg,  rnnesis,  remembrance),  or  loss  of  Mem- 
ory, is  a  common  phenomenon.  It  is  sometimes  total, 
sometimes  partial,  and  both  the  total  and  partial  losses 
are  sometimes  temporary  and  sometimes  permanent.  All 
forms  are  also  sometimes  sudden  and  sometimes  progress- 
ive. The  principal  ascertained  causes  of  amnesia  are  the 
following  : 

(1)  Wounds  OP  diseases  affecting  the  brain. — Amnesia 

from  these  causes  is  generally  sudden,  unless  the  disease 
itself  is  progressive,  in  which  case  the  amnesia  may  be 
progressive  also,  but  it  is  frequently  temporary  and  some- 
times only  partial. 

"The  Memory  of  particular  classes  of  ideas  is  frequently  de- 
stroyed ;  that,  for  example,  of  a  certain  language  or  some  other 
branch  of  knowledge,  or  of  the  patient's  domestic  or  social  relations. 
Thus,  a  case  was  recorded  by  Dr.  Beattie,  of  a  gentleman  who  after 
a  blow  on  the  head,  found  that  he  had  lost  his  knowledge  of  Greek, 
but  did  not  appear  to  have  suffered  in  any  other  way.  A  similar 
case  is  that  of  a  lad  who  lay  for  three  days  insensible  in  consequence 
of  a  severe  blow  on  the  head  and  found  himself  on  recovering  to 
have  lost  all  the  music  he  had  learned,  though  nothing  else  had  been 
thus  'knocked  out  of  him.'  ....  One  of  the  most  curious  exam- 
ples of  this  limited  loss  of  Memory  occurred  in  the  case  of  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott,  who  having  produced  one  of  his  best  works  under  the 
pressure  of  severe  illness  was  afterwards  found  to  have  forgotten 


108  PSYCHOLOGY. 

entirely  what  he  had  thus  constructed/''*  Aphasia,  agraphia,  etc., 
are  frequent  forms  of  amnesia,  in  which  s])()ken  or  written  words 
are  forgotten.  A  great  number  and  variety  of  examples  may  be 
found  in  Ribot's  "Diseases  of  Memory."  In  all  these  cases,  there 
is,  no  doubt,  injury  to  the  nervous  apparatus  employed  in  reproduc- 
ing the  images  of  Phantasy,  so  that  a  total  or  partial,  a  temporary 
or  permanent  loss  of  function  is  produced.  The  now  classical  case, 
quoted  from  Coleridge  by  Hamilton,  of  the  servant-girl  who  sud- 
denly found  herself  in  possession  of  learned  languages,  illustrates 
how  sickness  may  restore  as  well  as  destroy  the  Memory  of  past 
impressions.  5 

(2)  Intoxicants  and  anaesthetics,  in  such  doses  as  to 
interrupt  the  use  of  the  reproductive  powers,  produce 
amnesia  by  producing  a  suspension  of  consciousness. 
The  degree  of  amnesia  from  this  cause  is  variable,  but 
unless  the  dose  is  fatal,  the  loss  of  Memory  is  not  per- 
manent. 

Alcohol,  opium,  and  other  substances  of  like  character,  which  are 
stimulants  in  small  doses  and  narcotics  in  large  doses,  have  the 
effect  finally  of  lowering  the  tone  of  the  whole  nervous  system,  and 
so  of  inducing  weakness  in  all  the  processes  connected  with  it.  Per- 
manent deterioration  of  Memory  is,  therefore,  likely  to  follow 
from  the  use  of  such  substances,  although  the  recovery  from  the 
stupefaction  of  a  single  debauch  may  seem  complete.  The  effect  of 
stimulants  in  undermining  the  psychical  life  is  evident  in  cases  of 
delirium  tremens,  in  which  the  diseased  centres  of  perception  are 
stirred  to  the  most  extravagant  vagaries  in  suggesting  non-existent 
images. 

(3)  Excessive  weariness  is  a  frequent  cause  of  tempo- 
rary  amnesia.  Almost  every  one  has  experienced  to  some 
extent  the  influence  of  exhaustion  upon  the  suspension  of 
Memory. 

Sir  Henry  Holland  tells  us:  "I  descended  on  the  same  day  two 
^'ery  deep  mines  in  the  Hartz  Mountains,  remaining  some  hours 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  109 

ander  ground  in  each.  While  in  the  second  mine,  and  exhausted 
both  from  fatigue  and  inanition,  I  felt  the  utter  impossibility  of 
talking  longer  with  the  German  Inspector  who  accompanied  me. 
Every  German  w^ord  and  phrase  deserted  my  recollection ;  and  it  was 
not  until  I  had  taken  food  and  wine  and  been  some  time  at  rest  that 
I  regained  them."  ^ 

(4)  Old  age  is  usually  attended  with  progressive  am- 
nesia. It  is  a  noticeable  fact,  however,  that  the  aged 
retain  a  perfect  recollection  of  the  events  of  their  early 
lives,  while  the  occurrences  of  the  day  fade  from  Memory 
in  a  very  short  time. 

Carpenter  attempts  to  explain  this  by  reference  to  the  superior 
energy  of  the  vital  forces  in  the  brain  in  youth  and  their  decay  with 
advancing  years.  "As  the  nutritive  activity  diminishes,  the  waste 
becomes  more  active  than  the  renovation ;  and  it  would  seem  that 
while  (to  use  a  commercial  analogy)  the  '  old-established  houses ' 
keep  their  ground,  those  later  firms  whose  basis  is  less  secure,  are 
the  first  to  crumble  away, — the  nutritive  activity,  which  yet  suffices 
to  maintain  the  original  structure,  not  being  capable  of  keeping  the 
subsequent  additions  in  working  order."''  The  ready  facility  with 
which  the  "commercial  analogy"  fits  in,  though  the  subject-matter 
is  so  remote,  suggests  the  fascination  and  the  danger  of  all  mere 
analogy,  such  as  that  upon  which  this  explanation  is  built.  Still, 
the  theory  serves  to  explain  the  disposition  of  a  centre  to  reproduce 
states  to  which  it  has  been  accustomed,  and  does  really  help  us  to 
understand  why  the  images  of  youth  should  be  more  easily  repro- 
duced in  the  mind  of  an  aged  man  than  the  images  of  yesterday. 
Another  and  important  element  is  diminishing  attention  in  later 
years. 

6.  Relation  of  Memory  to  the  Organism. 

That  Memory  is  dependent  to  some  extent  upon  the 
condition  of  the  nervous  organism,  is  evident  from  the 
facts  already  observed.  If  Phantasy  fails  to  reproduce 
ideas  of  the  past.  Memory  must  fail  to  recognize  them- 


no  PSYCHOLOGY. 

It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  Phantasy  employs 
the  nervous  organism  in  reproducing  images  and  yet  with- 
out being  wholly  identified  Avith  the  organic  processes. 
The  act  of  recognition,  however,  is  a  purely  intellectual 
act,  and  the  only  dependence  of  Memory  upon  the  organ- 
ism is  involved  in  its  dependence  upon  subsidiary  opera- 
tions of  Phantasy. 

Ladd  repudiates  all  physiological    explanations   of  Memory. 

"None  of  these  physical  conditions  immediately  concerns  the  very 
mental  activity  which  constitutes  the  essence  of  conscious  memory. 
What  is  explained,  if  any  thing,  is  simply  why  I  remember  one 
thing  rather  than  another — granting  the  mind's  power  to  remember 
at  all.  This  power  is  a  spiritual  activity  wholly  sui  generis,  and 
incapable  of  being  conceived  of  as  flowing  out  of  any  physical  con- 
dition or  mode  of  energy  whatever.  .  .  .  We  must  insist  upon  the 
complete  inability  of  physiology  to  suggest  an  explanation  for  con- 
scious memory,  in  so  far  as  it  is  3Iemory — that  is,  in  so  far  as  it  most 
imperatively  calls  for  explanation."^ 

7.  Relation  of  Memory  to  Other  Powers. 

The  dependence  of  all  the  higher  j^owers  of  Intellect 
upon  Memory  hardly  requires  illustration.  Our  immedi- 
ate knowledge  is  confined  to  a  very  narrow  circle  of  facts, 
and  does  not  afford  us  a  very  extended  illustration  of 
general  principles.  It  is  through  our  recognition  of 
past  knowledge  that  we  are  able  to  interpret  and  under- 
stand even  the  little  which  the  present  furnishes.  It  is 
through  acts  of  Memory  that  we  are  able  to  detect  those 
resemblances  upon  which  all  our  generalizations  are  built. 
Through  the  aid  of  Memory  we  exercise  that  function  of 
Assimilation  wdiich  broadens  and  deepens  the  knowledge 
acquired  through  the  function  of  Discrimination.  It  en- 
ables us  to  interpret  the  present  in  the  light  of  the  past. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLMDGE.  IH 

It  has  frequently  been  affirmed  that  men  of  remarkable  Memory 
are  weak  in  other  intellectual  powers.  Hamilton  has  denied  and 
refuted  this  error,  citing  numerous  examples  in  support  of  the  posi- 
tion that  a  good  Memory  is  necessary  to  intellectual  greatness. 
Of  Scaliger  it  was  said,  "He  had  read  nothing  (and  what  had  he  not 
read?)  which  he  could  not  perfectly  remember."  Grotius  and  Pascal 
never  forgot  any  thing  they  had  ever  read  or  thought.  Leibnitz  and 
Euler,  both  great  mathematicians  and  men  of  the  most  original 
minds,  could  repeat  the  whole  of  the  "-^neid."  A.  von  Humboldt 
and  Ritter,  the  geographer,  possessed  vast  accumulations  of  con- 
crete facts  with  great  powers  of  thought.  Niebuhr  in  history  and 
statistics,  Goethe  in  literature,  and  art,  and  Agassiz  in  natural 
history,  were  men  of  remarkable  Memory  and  distinguished  general 
powers. 

8.  Relation  of  Memory  to  Education. 

It  is  evident  that  all  the  processes  of  education  are 
dependent  upon  Memory^  for  what  we  cannot  recollect 
we  cannot  use  for  any  intellectual  purpose.  How  can  the 
teacher  develop  the  power  of  Memory  in  the  learner  ? 
(1)  By  directing  his  acquisition  with  reference  to  recogni- 
tion, and  (3)  by  exercising  him  in  the  prompt  and  accu- 
rate recollection  of  what  he  has  learned. 

(1)  Acquisition  with  reference  to  Recognition. — Our 
ability  to  recall  knowledge  in  the  future  depends  largely 
upon  the  circumstances  of  its  acquisition.  Such  physical 
conditions  as  general  good  health  and  vigor  of  brain  are 
conducive  to  permanent  acquisitions,  while  disease  and 
weakness  are  obstructive.  Psychical  conditions,  such  as 
interest  in  the  subject  and  attention  to  details,  also  affect 
the  durability  of  knowledge.  There  is,  moreover,  the 
essential  condition  of  sufficient  time  for  distinct  impres- 
sions to  be  made  and  for  a  certain  amount  of  repetition. 
But  when  the  conditions  are  all  as  favorable  as  possible. 


112  PSYCHOLOGY. 

much  depends  upon  the  method  of  acquisition.  There  is 
a  natural  method  and  there  is  an  artificial  method.  The 
natural  method  consists  in  annealing  the  new  knowledge 
to  the  old  by  a  process  of  assimilation,  thus  organizing  it 
as  a  23art  of  the  mental  life.  The  artificial  method  con- 
sists in  holding  the  new  knowledge  hy  itself,  as  something 
irrelevant  to  the  integrity  of  the  mental  life,  by  some 
superficial  or  transient  tie  of  association,  such  as  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  sentence  on  a  page.  A  student  of  Geometry 
will  sometimes  recite  a  demonstration  word  for  word  as  it 
appears  in  the  book,  reproducing  the  figure  also,  with  the 
page  before  his  mind^'s  eye,  and  in  a  week  will  have  no 
recollection  of  either  demonstration  or  figure.  The  nat- 
ural method  would  require  such  an  apprehension  of  the 
theorem  and  proof  that  the  learner  could  use  other  lan- 
guage and  a  diiferent  figure  in  the  demonstration.  The 
new  knowledge  would  then  be  forced  to  enter  into  com- 
l)osition  with  previous  knowledge  and  be  a  permanent 
acquisition.  The  real  object  in  teaching  Geometry  is  to 
implant  in  the  mind  (in  addition  to  the  discipline  in  rea- 
soning) a  mathematical  truth,  not  simply  a  string  of  words 
and  a  figure  with  particular  letters.  One  cannot  be  justly 
expected  to  remember  what  he  has  never  learned,  and  yet 
teachers  sometimes  hold  students  responsible  for  what  they 
were  never  taught  to  learn.  If  the  words  of  the  book 
satisfy  the  teacher,  the  learner  naturally  infers  that  it  is 
these  alone  which  he  is  to  acquire.  Accordingly,  he  learns 
and  forgets  them  in  the  same  v/eek,  and  what  he  should 
have  acquired  he  has  never  learned. 

(2)  Practice  in  Recollection. — When  the  learner  has 
acquired  knowledge  in  the  proper  manner,  the  teacher 
may  aid  him  by  calling  into  exeroise  his  power  of  recol- 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  113 

lection.  The  student  must  recite  what  he  has  learned, 
that  is,  give  an  account  of  his  acquisition.  However 
urgent  reluctant  learners  may  be  in  advocating  other 
plans,  no  method  of  instruction  can  ever  supersede  the 
method  of  recitation,  without  intellectual  loss.  The  act 
of  recollection  itself  helps  to  fix  knowledge  and  prepare  it 
for  future  use,  and  until  it  is  so  prepared  it  is  practically 
valueless,  even  if  it  can  be  said  to  have  existence.  The 
worst  conceivable  teacher,  from  an  intellectual  point  of 
view,  is  one  who  does  all  the  reciting,  or  a  great  part  of  it. 
A  better  service  is  to  show  the  student  how  to  recollect 
what  he  has  studied  by  drawing  out  his  knowledge,  kindly 
but  inexorably,  along  the  lines  of  association  which  he 
ought  to  have  established.  If  this  process  is  a  revelation 
of  ignorance,  it  is  certain  that  the  learner  has  been  either 
incapable  or  neglectful  of  the  task  assigned  him. 

Mnemonic  inventions,  or  systems  of  artificial  memory,  have  been 
numerous  and  often  ingenious.  The  earliest  known  is  that  of  tlie 
Greek  poet  Simonides,  who  lived  in  the  fifth  century  before  Christ. 
Every  subsequent  age  has  been  prolific  in  them.  Some  of  them  are 
the  devices  of  charlatans  to  obtain  money  from  the  unsophisticated. 
They  usually  consist  in  a  system  of  associations  by  which  dates, 
names,  etc.,  may  be  recalled.  For  example,  every  number  may  be 
denoted  by  a  consonant,  let  us  say,  l  =  h,  8  =  c  or  Tc,  and  7  =  d. 
Now  by  filling  in  with  non-significant  vowels,  we  may  make  a  word, 
say  hecJced,  which  ought  to  stand  for  1887.  In  this  manner,  whole 
lists  of  dates  may  be  learned  by  recalling  words,  instead  of  dates, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  easier  for  some  people.  Sometimes  mne- 
monic rhymes  are  employed  and  other  contrivances  of  a  similar 
nature.  Usually  more  time  and  mental  effort  are  employed  in  the 
cliildish  occupation  of  forming  artificial  associations  than  would  be 
required  to  learn  the  fact  outright.  Occasionally,  however,  there  is 
real  convenience,  as  in  the  familiar  rhyme  noting  the  number  of 
days  in  the  different  months  of  the  year,  beginning,  "Thirty  days 
hath  September,"  etc. 


114  PSYCHOLOGY. 

In   this    section,    on    "Memory,"   we   have    consid- 
ered : — 

1,  Definition  of  Memory, 

2,  rerfect  and  Imperfect  Mem,ory, 

3,  Memory  of  Time, 

4k,  Voluntary  and  Involuntary  3Iemory. 

5,  Amnesia,  or  Loss  of  Memory, 

6,  Relation  of  Memory  to  the  Organism, 

7,  Relation  of  3Iemory  to  Other  Powers. 
S,  Relation  of  3Iemory  to  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Sully's  Outlines  of  Psychology,  p.  223.  (2) 
Dewey's  Psychology,  p.  179.  (3)  Taine  On  Intelligence,  Part  I., 
Book  II.,  Chap.  I.  (4)  Carpenter's  Mental  Physiology,  pp.  443,  444. 
(5)  Hamilton's  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  pp.  239,  240  ;  quoted  from 
Coleridge's  Biographia  Literaria,  I.,  p.  117  ;  and  cited  by  Carpen- 
ter, Mental  Physiology,  pp.  437,  438.  (6)  Carpenter's  Mental  Phys- 
iology, p.  441.  (7)  Id.,  p.  442.  (8)  Ladd's  Physiological  Psychol- 
ogy, p.  556. 


SECTION    lY. 

IMAGINATION. 
1.  Definition  of  Imagination. 

Imagination  is  the  soul's  power  to  reoombine  represent-' 
ative  ideas.  The  mere  reiwoduction  of  ideas  is  the  func- 
tion of  Phantasy,  as  we  have  defined  it.  Recognition  is 
the  function  of  Memory.  But  in  addition  to  the  revival 
and  remembrance  of  past  experiences,  we  have  the  power 
to  take  the  individual  elements  thus  reinstated  in  con- 
sciousness and  comMne  tliem  into  neio  forms.  This,  and 
not  the  mere  imaging  of  ideas,  is  the  proper  sphere  of  Im- 
agination. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  115 

The  word  "  Imagination  "  has  been  variously  defined  and  em- 
ployed by  writers  on  Psychology,  and,  following  these,  we  should 
find  ourselves  in  the  utmost  confusion.  Let  us  turn,  then,  for  a 
description  of  the  power,  to  those  who  have  been  conspicuous  in  tlie 
possession  and  use  of  it.  Wordsworth  says  :  "  Imagination,  in  the 
sense  of  the  poet,  has  no  reference  to  images  that  are  merely  a  faith- 
ful copy,  existing  in  the  mind,  of  absent  external  objects  ;  but  is  a 
word  of  higher  import,  denoting  operations  of  the  mind  upon  these 
objects  and  processes  of  creation  or  composition  governed  by  fixed 
laws."  ^     Shakespeare  has  the  same  idea  of  Imagination  : 

"And  as  Imagination  bodies  forth 
The  form  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

Washington  Irving  observes  :  "  It  is  the  divine  attribute  of  the  Im- 
agination that  it  is  irrepressible,  unconfinable  ;  that,  when  the  real 
world  is  shut  out,  it  can  create  a  world  for  itself,  and  with  a  necro- 
mantic power  can  conjure  up  glorious  shapes  and  forms  and  brilliant 
visions,  to  make  solitude  populous  and  irradiate  the  gloom  of  the 
dungeon."  ^ 

3.   The  Creative  Energy  of  Imagination. 

An  act  of  Imagination  may  be  (1)  Associative,  ft.s  when 
one,  having  reproduced  by  Phantasy  the  ideas  of  a  man 
and  a  horse,  takes  the  horse^s  head  and  places  it  upon  the 
man^s  shouklers,  or  regards  them  as  twice,  or  half,  the 
original  size ;  (2)  Penetrative,  as  when  one  seeks  out  that 
element  in  an  object  which  constitutes  its  heart  and  life 
and  treats  the  ideas  connected  with  it  from  this  central 
starting-point ;  or  (3)  Contemplative,  as  when  one  regards 
an  object  or  idea  in  a  peculiar  manner  and  is  by  this 
led  to  employ  other  images  and  ideas  in  connection  with 
it  in  conformity  to  this  manner  of  regarding  it.  In  all 
these  forms  of  imaginative  activity,  creative  energy,  in 
varying  degrees^  is  exercised.     "  To  imagine,  in  this  high 


116  PSYCHOLOGY. 

sense  of  the  word,  is  to  realize  the  ideal,  to  make  intelligi- 
ble truths  descend  into  the  forms  of  visible  nature,  to  rep- 
resent the  invisible  by  the  visible,  the  infinite  by  the 
finite/^  3 

This  division  of  the  activities  of  Imagination  is  taken  from  John 
Ruskin  (1819-  ),  the  English  art  critic  and  writer,  whose  views 
of  the  subject,  involving  many  of  the  ideas  previously  enunciated 
by  the  English  poet  Leigh  Hunt,  in  his  essay  on  "  Imagination  and 
Fancy,"  are  the  most  suggestive  to  be  found  in  the  English  language. 
The  student  should  read  the  whole  of  Section  IL,  in  the  second 
volume  of  "Modern  Painters,"  where  the  distinctions  between  Im- 
agination Associative,  Penetrative  and  Contemplative,  are  fully 
illustrated.  For  the  benefit  of  those  to  whom  the  work  may  be  inac- 
cessible, the  following  is  transcribed,  descriptive  of  the  mode  in 
which  the  highest  imaginative  activity  seizes  its  materials:  "It 
never  stops  at  crusts  or  ashes,  or  outward  images  of  any  kind,  it 
ploughs  them  all  aside  and  plunges  into  the  very  central  fiery  heart, 
nothing  else  will  content  its  spirituality.  Whatever  semblances  and 
various  outward  shows  and  phases  its  subject  may  possess,  go  for 
nothing,  it  gets  within  all  fence,  cuts  clown  to  the  root,  and  drinks  the 
very  vital  sap  of  that  it  deals  with  :  once  there,  it  is  at  liberty  to 
throw  up  what  new  shoots  it  will,  so  always  that  the  true  juice  and 
sap  be  in  them,  and  to  prune  and  twist  them  at  its  pleasure  and  bring 
them  to  fairer  fruit  than  grew  on  the  old  tree  ;  but  all  this  pruning 
and  twisting  is  work  that  it  likes  not  and  often  does  ill  ;  its  function 
and  gift  are  the  getting  at  the  root,  its  nature  and  dignity  depend 
on  its  holding  things  always  by  the  heart.  Take  its  hand  from  off 
the  beating  of  that,  and  it  will  prophesy  no  longer  ;  it  looks  not  in 
the  eyes,  it  judges  not  by  the  voice,  it  describes  not  by  the  outward 
features  ;  all  that  it  affirms,  judges  or  describes,  it  affirms  from 
within."  4 

This  prepares  us  for  the  following  distinction  between  Imagina- 
tion and  Fancy,  so  finely  illustrated  at  length  :  "  The  entirely  unim- 
aginative mind  sees  nothing  of  the  object  it  has  to  dwell  upon  or 
describe  and  is,  therefore,  utterly  unable,  as  it  is  blind  itself,  to  set 
any  thing  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader.  The  Fancy  sees  the  outside, 
and  is  able  to  give  a  portrait  of  the  outside,  clear,  brilliant  and  full 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  117 

of  detail.  The  Imagination  sees  the  heart  and  inner  nature  and 
makes  them  felt,  but  is  often  obscure,  mysterious  and  interrupted 
in  its  giving  of  outer  detail.  Take  an  instance.  A  writer  with 
neither  Imagination  nor  Fancy,  describing  a  fair  lip,  does  not  see  it, 
but  thinks  about  it  and  about  what  is  said  of  it,  and  calls  it  '  well, 
turned,'  or  'rosy,'  or  'delicate,'  or  'lovely,'  or  aflicts  us  with  some 
other  quenching  and  chilling  epithet.     Now  hear  Fancy  speak, — 

'Her  lips  were  red,  and  one  was  thin, 
Compared  with  that  was  next  her  chin, 
Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly.' 

The  real,  red,  bright  being  of  the  lip  is  there  in  a  moment.  But  it 
is  all  outside  ;  no  expression  yet,  no  mind.  Let  us  go  a  step  farther 
with  Warner,  of  fair  Rosamond  struck  by  Eleanor. 

'  With  that  she  dashed  her  on  the  lips 
So  dyed  double  red ; 
Hard  was  the  heart  that  gave  the  blow, 
Soft  were  those  lips  that  bled.' 

The  tenderness  of  mind  begins  to  mingle  with  the  outside  co\or,  the 
Imagination  is  seen  in  its  awakening.     Next  Shelley, — 

'  Lamp  of  life,  thy  lips  are  burning 
Through  the  veil  that  seems  to  hide  them, 
As  the  radiant  lines  of  morning 
Through  thin  clouds,  ere  they  divide  them.' 

There  dawns  the  entire  soul  in  that  morning  ;  yet  we  may  stop,  if  we 
choose,  at  the  image  still  external,  at  the  crimson  clouds.  The  Im- 
agination is  contemplative  rather  than  penetrative.  Last,  hear 
Hamlet, — 

'  Here  hung  those  lips  that  I  have  kissed,  I  know  not  how  oft.  Where  be  your 
gibes  now,  your  gambols,  your  songs,  your  flashes  of  merriment  that  were  wont  to 
set  the  table  on  a  roar  ?  ' 

There  is  the  essence  of  lip  and  the  full  power  of  the  Imagination."^ 
It  will  be  useful  to  the  learner  who  would  apply  these  distinctions 
in  literary  criticism,  to  add  the  following  lines  from  Milton,  in 
which  the  psychical  activity  employed  in  each  line  is  marked  at  the 
end  ; 


118  PSYCHOLOGY. 

"Bring  the  rathe  primrose,  that  forsaken  dies,  (Imagination) 
The  tufted  crow-toe  and  pale  jessamine,  (Nugatory) 
The  white  pink  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet,  (Fancy) 
The  glowing  violet,  (Imagination) 

The  musk  rose  and  the  well-attired  woodbine,  (Fancy,  vulgar) 
With  cowslips  wan,  that  hang  the  pensive  head,  (Imagination) 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears."    (Mixed)  « 


3.   Tlie  Character  of  Imaginative  Activity. 

Imaginative  activity  is  purely  psychical.  It  admits  of 
no  physiological  explanation.  It  is  not  simple  fusion  of 
ideas,  it  is  creative.  Mix  two  colors,  and  you  have  a  third 
color ;  but  you  have  destroyed  the  other  two  in  the  pro- 
duction of  the  third.  In  imaginative  activity,  we  do  not 
thus  destroy  the  primary  ideas  of  Phantasy  which  we 
employ  in  our  recombinations.  Here  all  physical  analogy 
fails.  The  lower  animals  have  Phantasy,  but  not  Imagina- 
tion, as  we  have  employed  the  term.  They  create  or  invent 
nothing.  Hence,  they  are  stationary,  and  a  dog  of  the 
nineteenth  century  is  like  a  dog  of  the  first.  Man  alone 
possesses  this  higher  power,  which  is  the  constructor  of 
his  arts,  his  sciences,  his  literatures,  and  his  philosophies. 

Lotze  has  well  illustrated  this  truth  in  the  following  passage  : 
"We  know  that  if  the  idea  of  '  blue,'  and  at  the  same  time  that  of 
*red,'  originates  within  us,  the  two  by  no  means  mingle  and  produce 
*  violet.'  Were  this,  however,  to  happen,  then  a  third  simple  idea 
would  merely  have  taken  the  place  of  the  two  others,  and  a  com- 
parison of  these  two  would  have  been  made  impossible  by  their  van- 
ishing. Every  comparison,  and  in  general  every  relation  between 
two  elements  (in  this  case,  '  red '  and  '  blue  '),  presupposes  that  both 
points  of  relation  remain  separate,  and  that  an  ideating  activity 
passes  over  from  the  one,  a,  to  the  other,  b,  and  at  the  same  time 
becomes  conscious  of  that  alteration  which  it  has  experienced  in 
this  transition  from  the  act  of  forming  the  idea  of  a  to  that  of  form- 
ing b." ' 

This  truly  creative  process  of  Imagination  is  passed  over  in  silence 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  119 

by  physiological  psychologists,  and  their  reticence  seems  to  justify 
the  acute  remark  of  Ruskin,  that  those  "who  are  constantly  endeav- 
oring to  fathom  and  explain  the  essence  of  the  faculties  of  mind,  are 
sure  in  the  end  to  lose  sight  of  all  that  cannot  be  explained."  The 
only  explanation  of  imaginative  activity,  in  its  higher  forms,  is  a 
reference  of  it  to  a  mode  of  being  quite  different  from  the  functions 
of  matter  and  motion.  The  reality  of  such  a  being  is  intellectually 
as  acceptable  and  experimentally  as  certain  as  the  existence  of  the 
ether  mentally  required  as  a  ground  of  explanation  of  the  phenomena 
of  light.  The  belief  in  this  hyper-organic  reality  is  as  little  meta- 
physical as  the  physicist's  belief  in  luminiferous  ether,  and,  indeed, 
is  more  clearly  demonstrable. 


4.   The  Liimitations  of  Imagination. 

It  is  evident  that  the  products  of  Imagination  can  con- 
tain no  elements  not  originally  furnished  by  presentation 
and  reproduced  by  Phantasy.  All  the  creations  of  art, 
therefore,  however  complex  or  admirable  they  may  be,  are 
only  new  combinations  of  old  presentations  modified  by 
Imagination  in  their  recombination.  They  have  nothing 
new  but  their  relations.  These,  however,  are  exceedingly 
varied,  so  that  effects  are  produced  which  are  entirely 
new.  But  even  these  relations  are  limited  by  certain  laws 
of  combination,  for  some  forms  of  composition  are  ren- 
dered impossible  by  the  nature  of  things  and  others  by 
the  requirements  of  taste.  The  various  spheres  of  imag- 
inative production  are  thus  governed  by  inflexible  laws, 
which  constitute  the  principles  of  the  arts. 

"  No  human  mind  has  ever  conceived  a  new  animal.    For  it  is 

evident  that  in  an  animal  every  part  implies  all  the  rest  ;  that  is, 
the  form  of  the  eye  involves  the  form  of  the  brow  and  nose,  these 
the  form  of  the  forehead  and  lip,  these  of  the  head  and  chin,  and  so 
on,  so  that  it  is  physically  impossible  to  conceive  of  any  one  of  these 
members,  unless  we  conceive  the  relation  it  bears  to  the  whole  ani- 


120  PSYCEOLOOY. 

mal  ;  and  as  this  relation  is  necessary,  certain  and  complicated, 
allowing  of  no  license  or  inaccuracy,  the  Intellect  utterly  fails  under 
the  load,  and  is  reduced  to  mere  composition,  putting  the  bird's 
wing  on  men's  slioulders,  or  half  tiie  human  body  to  lialf  the  horse's, 
in  doing  which  there  is  no  action  of  Imagination,  but  only  of  Fancy; 
tliough  in  the  treatment  and  contemplation  of  the  compound  form 
there  may  be  much  Imagination."^  We  may  at  once  think  of  the 
centaur,  a  man's  body  on  a  horse's  shoulders,  as  a  product  of  Imagi- 
nation frequently  employed  in  ancient  poetry  and  even  represented 
in  sculpture.  That  there  is  no  real  Imagination  here  is  evident  from 
this :  such  a  composite  has  two  digestive  and  arterial  systems,  vio- 
lating all  organic  analogies.  The  centaur  is,  then,  a  work  of  Fancy, 
not  of  Imagination.  The  first  designer  of  this  monstrosity  laid  two 
images  side  by  side,  he  did  not  grasp  the  idea  of  an  animal  and  give 
that  idea  embodiment.  Accordingly,  we  have  the  grotesque,  some- 
thing unnatural  and  incongruous,  fit  to  amuse  children,  not  broadly 
and  universally  human  in  design.  In  literature,  Munchausen's 
Tales  are  fanciful,  rather  than  imaginative ;  they  amuse  but  do  not 
satisfy.  All  high  art  aims  at  the  ideal,  which  Imagination  alone, 
not  Fancy,  can  realize. 

5.  Varieties  of  Imagination. 

Imagination,  in  its  true  sense,  has  one  main  end,  the 
pursuit  of  the  ideal.  It  may,  however,  be  applied  to  ends 
in  a  great  variety  of  spheres.  Without  regarding  the 
classification  as  exhaustive,  but  simply  as  illustrative,  we 
may  mention  the  following  leading  varieties  : 

(1)  Scientific  Imagination  is  that  form  of  imaginative 
activity  in  which  the  end  is  to  realize  more  completely  the 
true  relations  of  things,  under  the  guidance  of  Intellect. 
This  appears  as  {a)  Mathematical  Imagination,  when  the 
aim  is  to  realize  the  relations  of  space  and  number  ; 
{I)  iVIechanical  Imagination,  when  the  aim  is  to  realize 
combinations  of  natural  forces  for  the  accomplishment  of 
some  practical  end ;   and  (c)   Philosophical  Imagination, 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  ]21 

when  the  aim  is  to  realize  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect 
in  the  order  of  actual  existence. 

Science  in  every  form  is  much  more  than  accumulated  facts.  It 
is  the  truth  with  regard  to  its  subject-matter,  and  this  involves  a 
knowledge  of  the  connection,  significance,  and  laws  of  facts.  It  may 
seem  at  first  thought  that  no  department  of  knowledge  is  less  in- 
debted to  Imagination  or  less  connected  with  its  exercise  than 
Mathematics.  B,eflection,  however,  shows  that  it  is  quite  other- 
wise. The  mathematician  deals  with  units  of  number  and  magni- 
tude represented  by  symbols,  but  signifying  realities.  The  geometer, 
for  example,  deals  with  lines,  surfaces,  and  solids  whose  actual  and 
universal  relations  are  to  be  demonstrated.  If  the  student  will 
attempt  the  demonstration  of  a  geometrical  theorem  without  any 
physical  figure,  depending  entirely  upon  the  contents  of  his  mind, 
he  will  realize  the  relation  of  Imagination  to  mathematics.  Some 
teachers  have  insisted  upon  this  mode  of  demonstration  as  a  means 
of  discipline  to  Imagination.  A  few  exercises  in  Inventional  Geom- 
etry, pursued  on  this  plan,  will  illustrate  the  value  of  a  powerful 
Imagination  to  the  geometer. 

The  importance  of  Imagination  to  the  inventor  hardly  requires 
discussion.  To  construct  such  a  complex  mechanism  as  a  locomo- 
tive engine,  demands  Imagination  not  less  than  to  paint  a  picture. 
Not  only  its  parts,  but  their  connections  and  inter-relations,  must  be 
distinctly  apprehended.  The  locomotive  was  an  idea  in  the  mind  of 
George  Stephenson,  and  every  element  of  it  was  evolved  through  a 
process  of  Imagination,  before  the  first  actual  locomotive  appeared 
before  the  eyes  of  men.  So  also  the  steam-boat  existed  in  the  mind 
of  Robert  Fulton  and  the  telephone  in  that  of  Thomas  A.  Edison 
as  inventions  of  Imagination  destined  to  revolutionize  the  life  of 
society. 

Philosophical  Imagination  searches  after  causes,  striving  to  ex- 
plain phenomena.  The  operation  of  Imagination  in  the  savage  is  very 
rudimentary,  and  so  we  must  suppose  it  to  have  been  in  prima3val 
man.  A  storm-cloud  gathers  ;  lightning  flashes ;  thunder  rolls  ;  the 
rain  pours  out  upon  the  earth.  The  observing  savage  wishes  to  know 
the  cause  of  these  phenomena.  The  untutored  Hindu  imagines  that 
the  elephant  of  Indra  is  concealed  in  the  clouds  and  throws  down 
waier  gathered  from  the  sea  with  his  trunk.    When  observation  has 


122  PSYCHOLOGY, 

become  more  definite,  it  is  noticed  that  vapor  rises  from  the  surface 
of  water.  It  is  observed  that  this  occurs  especially  when  heat  i& 
present.  Then,  the  resemblance  between  the  vaporization  of  water 
and  the  formation  of  clouds  is  detected.  Finally,  the  true  connec- 
tion of  phenomena  is  disclosed  and  clouds  are  imagined  as  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  sun's  action  upon  the  ocean,  drawing  up  moisture  in  a 
vaporized  form,  which  falls  when  it  is  condensed.  In  like  manner 
the  Greek  speaks  of  the  lightning  as  the  fiery  bolt  of  Zeus.  The 
electrical  phenomena  are  much  more  difficult  to  bring  into  imagina- 
tive connection  with  ordinary  events  than  those  of  evaporation. 
Long  after  Zeus  is  dethroned,  men  continue  to  think  of  lightning  as 
a  personally  caused  phenomenon  and  to  connect  it  with  the  wrath  of 
a  deity.  At  last,  the  Imagination  of  a  Franklin  connects  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  thunderstorm  with  others  already  known  and  gathers 
electricity  from  the  cloud  as  he  would  from  the  back  of  a  cat  in  the 
dark.  Thus  most  of  the  advances  in  scientific  knowledge  have  been 
made  by  leaps  of  Imagination,  afterward  verified,  and  not  by  the 
Baconian  method  of  aggregating  facts. ^  Every  mass  of  facts  is 
dumb  and  unintelligible  until  the  light  of  genius  reveals  their  law. 
The  scientific  form  of  Imagination  is  akin  to  the  poetic,  as  is  illus- 
trated by  the  discoveries  of  the  great  poet  Goethe,  who  was  the  fii'st 
to  apply  the  idea  of  evolution  to  the  vegetable  kingdom  in  his  doc- 
trine of  the  "metamorphosis  of  plants,"  though  he  has  not  been 
followed  in  his  "doctrine  of  color."  Faraday,  Tyndall,  Darwin, 
Ilelmholtz  and  other  great  leaders  in  science,  have  all  been  men  of 
great  Imagination.  The  faculty  seems  to  assume  a  deeper  tinge  of 
the  poetic  tendency  in  the  great  system-makers  of  philosophy,  like 
Plato,  Fichte,  Schelling  and  Hegel.  While  Imagination  does  not 
always  attain  to  truth,  it  boldly  soars  for  it  and,  even  though,  like 
the  eagle,  it  sometimes  misses  its  prey,  it  dwells  in  a  lofty  region. 

(2)  Artistic  Imagination  is  that  form  of  imaginative  ac- 
tivity ill  which  the  eud  is  to  realize  such  relations  as  will 
give  pleasure  to  our  aesthetic  nature,,  under  the  guidance 
of  Sensibility.  This  appears  in  the  fine  arts  as  (a)  Poet- 
ical, {h)  Pictorial  and  {c)  Architectural  Imagination,  accord- 
ing as  it  deals  with  words  as  tiie  symbols  of  ideas,  with 
lines  and    colors    as    representing   appearances,   or  with 


REPRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  123 

masses  of  matter  as  the  constituents  of  buildings  and 
similar  structures.  Painting  and  Sculpture  are  arts  cre- 
ated by  Pictorial  Imagination,  both  having  for  their  object 
the  production  of  a  picture  ;  the  former  in  both  lines  and 
colors  on  a  flat  surface,  the  latter  in  lines  alone  but  usually 
in  three  dimensions  of  space.  Music  is  inseparably  asso- 
ciated with  Poetry,  so  that  both  must  be  considered  as 
products  of  Poetic  Imagination. 

The  aim  of  Art  is  to  satisfy  feeling  rather  than  to  discover  truth. 
There  are  laws  which  it  cannot  violate,  because  they  are  laws  of 
Intellect  and  laws  of  Nature,  and  feeling  is  only  one  phase  of  that 
complex  psychical  life  which  includes  inseparably  the  phenomena  of 
knowing  and  feeling.  We  cannot  feel  that  an  object  is  beautiful 
when  we  know  that  it  is  not.  There  are  not  for  Art  the  same  infalli- 
ble tests  and  standards  which  are  found  for  knowledge  in  the  laws  of 
thought.  Feeling  is  subjective  and  personal,  not  objective  and  uni- 
versal, and  while  knowledge  exists  for  all  and  may  be  shared  by  all, 
feeling  exists  for  the  individual  only  and  is  variable  according  to 
personal  differences.  Hence  the  old  aphorism,  "  De  gustihus  non  dis- 
putandum  est,'"  "There  must  be  no  disputing  about  tastes."  The 
same  productions  are  not  equally  pleasing  to  all.  The  consentient 
judgment  of  the  majority  of  the  cultivated  is,  therefore,  the  only 
standard  and  this,  from  the  conditions  of  the  case,  must  be  variable. 
Artistic  greatness  consists  in  producing  such  creations  of  art  as 
transcend  the  provincial  and  temporary  taste  and  satisfy  the  best 
judges  in  all  times  and  places.  If  we  ask.  Who  are  the  best  judges  ? 
we  can  only  answer,  Those  who  have  most  culture.  If  we  ask  what 
"culture"  is,  we  cannot  do  better  than  to  adopt  Matthew  Arnold's 
definition,  "The  knowledge  of  the  best  that  has  been  known  and 
thought  in  the  world."  If  all  these  ideas  seem  to  move  in  a  circle, 
as  they  confessedly  do,  it  is  because,  as  has  been  explained,  this  is 
the  very  nature  of  feeling,  which  is  not  a  form  of  apprehending 
truth  but  of  apprehending  pleasure.  The  aim  of  the  artist  is  to 
please.  Whetner  or  not  he  succeeds,  depends  entirely  upon  his  mood 
and  ours. 

The  essence  of  poetry  is  feeling.    It  may  be  defined,  "  Emotive 


124  PSYCHOLOGY. 

ideas  in  emotive  language."  Emotive  ideas  are  such  as  stir  emotion. 
Emotive  language  is  such  as  creates  and  satisfies  emotion.  It  must 
be  rhythmical,  because  all  emotion  moves  in  rhythm.  Pause  is 
unnatural  until  it  is  spent  and  compulsory  pause  is  its  annihilation. 
Hence,  meter,  rhyme  and  alliteration  are  the  traits  of  poetic  lan- 
guage. But  we  are  here  more  concerned  with  the  poetic  faculty. 
This  is  Imagination.  It  is  moved  by  feeling  and  in  turn  its  move- 
ments awaken  feeling.     As  the  greatest  of  poets  has  said, — 

"  The  lunatic,  the  lover  and  the  poet 
Are  of  Imagination  all  compact." 

These  are  the  three  representatives  of  emotion  in  its  three  types  of 
excitement :  lunacy,  love  and  poesy.  Each  is  moved  by  ideas  rather 
than  objective  realities  ;  the  first  to  the  wrong  interpretation  of  his 
perceptions,  the  second  to  the  glorification  of  his  idealized  entrancer, 
the  third  to  the  creation  of  ideal  beings  to  meet  the  needs  of  his 
etherialized  feelings.  Shakespeare  has  opened  the  heart  of  a  great 
poet  in  disclosing  this  association  of  emotive  perturbation  and  imag- 
inative activity.  It  is  through  this  union  of  Imagination  and  feeling 
that  poetry  and  music  are  naturally  connected.  Music  is  pure 
rhythm  without  images.  Words  set  to  music  suggest  the  images 
and  both  music  and  poetry  reach  their  climax  of  perfection  in  this 
wedding  of  ideas  to  emotions.  Hence  all  the  earliest  poems  were 
sung  or  chanted  ;  hence  every  novice  in  reading  verse  instinctively 
sings  it. 

Pictorial  power  has  a  wide  range.  It  began  with  the  rude 
scratching  of  an  animal's  outline  upon  a  flat  bone  of  its  own  body 
when  the  feast  was  over.  It  is  difficult  to  trace  the  development  of 
pictorial  art  by  consecutive  steps  and  quite  unnecessary  here.  The 
perspective  of  painting  is  a  late  discovery  and  sculpture  had  ad- 
vanced far  before  painting  had  existence.  Form  first  and  color 
afterward,  has  been  the  order  of  progress.  Painting  rises  out  of 
sculpture  and  becomes  distinct  from  it  when  it  is  seen  that  relief 
can  be  given  by  the  use  of  lines  and  the  distribution  of  shades,  without 
actually  employing  three  dimensions.  The  study  of  sculpture  and 
painting  throws  great  light  upon  psychologic  history,  for  the  prod- 
ucts of  pictorial  art  reveal  the  prevailing  sentiments  of  eveiy  age 
whieli  they  represent.  The  connection  with  the  religious  sentiment 
is  very  close  and  the  earliest  plastic  art  was  consecrated  to  the  repro- 


REPRESENTATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  125 

luction  of  the  gods.  The  progress  from  the  huge,  grotesque  aggre- 
gation of  many  heads  upon  one  body  in  the  old  Indie  divinities  to 
the  symmetrical  and  ideal  human  figures  of  the  gods  of  Greece, 
marks  a  growth  of  Intellect,  a  refinement  of  Sensibility  and  a  final 
dominance  of  Reason. 

Architecture  is  not  identical  with  construction.  In  so  far  as  it  is 
a  fine  art,  it  is  controlled  by  aesthetic  feeling  rather  than  by  utility. 
The  temples  upon  which  its  creative  power  first  exerted  itself  were 
shrines  built  liy  Imagination  as  the  dwelling-places  of  Imagination. 
They  were  parts  of  a  grand  national  cultus  and  every  element  of 
construction  had  relation  to  the  central  idea  of  the  divinity  whom 
the  Imagination  placed  in  the  cella  of  the  temple.  All  the  other  arts 
conspired  to  produce  effects  upon  the  worshipper.  Sculpture  and 
painting  kept  the  idea  of  the  indwelling  deity  before  the  eye,  solemn 
chants  conveyed  it  to  the  ear,  incense  wafted  it  to  the  nostril.  Thus 
philosophy,  which  devised  the  national  cultus  of  the  ancient  nations, 
clothed  itself  with  the  garment  woven  by  Imagination  and  domi- 
nated through  the  power  of  visible  forms  the  life  of  great  peoples.  Its 
doctrines  assumed  the  garb  of  myths  and  theogonies  and  combined 
with  the  outward  presentations  to  constitute  a  vast  system  accepted 
as  real  in  the  minds  of  men.  All  this  was  the  work  of  no  single 
master,  but  the  spontaneous  creation  of  nations.  It  illustrates  the 
reality  and  the  potency  of  the  religious  sentiment.  It  illustrates  too 
the  power  of  the  sensuous  in  man  to  distort  and  pervert  the  religious 
sentiment  itself  and  to  substitute  for  communion  of  spirit  a  passion 
and  veneration  for  form. 

(3)  Ethical  Imagination  is  that  form  of  imaginative 
activity  in  which  the  end  is  to  realize  an  ideal  of  char- 
acter and  conduct  such  as  will  satisfy  the  convictions  of 
conscience,  under  the  guidance  of  Will.  It  is  the  essen- 
tial element  in  all  personal  and  social  advancement  in 
morality  and  realization  of  the  spiritual  ideal. 

Everything  ethical,  or  moral,  has  relation  to  some  end.  Some 
ends  are  recognized  by  men  as  right,  others  as  wrong.  It  is  possible 
for  us  to  select  pleasure,  power,  fame,  or  wealth  as  the  end  of  life. 
A  little  reflection,  however,  shows  that  if  an  individual  lives  solely 


126  PSYCHOLOGY. 

for  such  ,1  limltod  and  personal  end,  his  life  is  not  what  it  onght  to 
he,  is  not  ideally  right.  We  have  the  power  to  imagine  tlic  itleal  in 
character  and  conduct.  This  is  the  ethical  ideal.  It  is  that  which 
ought  to  he.  How  we  reach  such  ethical  ideals  and  the  ground  of 
obligation  on  which  they  rest  are  topics  to  be  discussed  in  treating 
the  science  of  right  conduct,  or  Ethics.  "We  have  here  simply  to 
note  the  psychological  fact  that  we  can  form  such  ideals,  and  when 
we  come  to  treat  of  the  ethical  emotions,  we  shall  see  that  we  have 
feelings  of  obligation  to  conform  practically  in  our  lives  to  such 
ideals  as  these.  We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  books,  pictures  and 
other  products  of  the  Imagination  as  "good"  or  "bad,"  that  is, 
from  a  moral  as  distinguished  from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  accord- 
ing as  they  do  or  do  not  conform  to  moral  ideals.  A  book  or  picture 
is  not  ' '  bad  "  because  it  is  a  work  of  Imagination,  that  is,  because  it 
is  fiction,  but  because  it  has  an  immoral  effect  ujjon  those  who  are 
led  to  admire  it  and  sometimes,  insensibly,  when  there  is  no  con- 
scious admiration.  Some  of  the  best  books  in  the  world  and  nearly 
all  the  great  pictures  are  products  of  Imagination,  but  of  this  faculty 
as  pursuing  and  realizing  the  deepest  truth,  for  the  deepest  truth  is 
truth  of  principle,  not  of  particular  fact.  In  this  clearer  light,  cer- 
tain works  of  fiction  may  be  highly  valued  for  their  moral  power, 
presenting  as  they  do  the  ideal  rather  than  the  uctiial  excellence  of 
human  attainment,  and  thus  stimulating  all  with  n  desire  to  rf>.a.Uae 
the  uuattained. 

6.  Expectation. 

A  practically  important  application  of  Imagination  ifi  in 
expectation,  or  the  imaginative  anticipation  of  the  future. 
It  has  sometimes  been  described  as  an  "  inverted  memory," 
a  projection  of  the  experiences  of  the  past  into  the  future, 
with  the  time-relations  inverted.  This  is  very  inadequate. 
We  seldom  expect  the  future  to  be  exactly  like  the  past. 
Nor  is  expectation  a  mere  sj^tontaneous  representation  by 
means  of  Phantasy.  Tlie  true  analysis  is  this  :  Phantasy 
revives  former  experiences ;  Memory  recognizes  them  as 
belonging  to  the  sphere  of  reality,  not  mere  images  such 


REPRESENTA  TTYE  KNO  WLEDGE.  127 

as  are  presented  in  dreams  ;,  Iinagination  singles  out  such 
as  are  likely  to  be  repeated  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
future  that  will  probably  exist.  Thus,  in  making  a  jour- 
ney which  we  have  made  before,  we  may  expect  a  repeti- 
tion of  some  of  the  former  experiences  with  others  left  out 
and  still  others  added,  according  to  changed  conditions. 
The  whole  process  is  one  of  idealization  in  which  the  soul 
is  operative  as  a  relating  agent.  If  expectation  were  per- 
fect in  details,  we  should  possess  the  gift  of  prophecy,  but 
our  limitations  are  so  numerous  that  the  future  is  seldom 
just  what  we  expect  it  to  be.  The  unknown  factors  pre- 
vent our  realizing  our  expectations. 

It  is  evklent  that,  if  we  may  assume,  as  every  rational  mind  does, 
tliat  like  causes  will  produce  like  effects,  we  possess  the  power  of 
prophecy  just  in'  proportion  as  we  comprehend  all  the  causes  that  will 
affect  the  future.  Within  a  short  range,  this  is  sometimes  possible. 
The  prediction  of  the  weather  for  the  day  may  not  be  difficult  in  the 
morning  to  the  "weather-wise"  and  to  the  scientific  meteorologist 
approaches  certainty.  The  prediction  of  an  eclipse  is  a  mattei  of 
absolute  certainty  to  the  astronomer,  for  the  factors  influencing  the 
event  are  few  and  simple,  and  the  mathematical  computation  may 
be  free  from  error.  But  if  the  stars  should  fall  !  We  are  not  pre- 
pared for  this  emergency ! 

7.  Uses  of  Iinagination. 

From  what  has  preceded,  it  is  apparent  that  no  faculty 
of  the  soul  is  more  useful  than  Imagination,  as  here  un- 
derstood. Progress  in  science,  art  and  morality,  man's 
three  most  precious  possessions,  \^ould  be  impossible  with- 
out it.  The  ordinary  affairs  of  life  require  its  constant 
aid  ;  for  no  plan  could  be  formed,  no  invention  could  be 
originated,  without  it.  All  the  leaders  of  the  world's  life 
have  been  men  of  Imagination.    Its  inventors  have  formed 


128  PSYCHOLOGY. 

new  combinations  of  forces,  its  generals  and  statesmen 
have  foreseen  new  dispositions  of  nations  and  empires,  its 
reformers  have  created  ideals  that  Avere  better  than  reali- 
ties, its  writers  have  conceived  of  characters  superior  to 
living  men  and  women,  and  its  moralists  have  erected 
standards  of  virtue  and  nobility  higher  than  those  exist- 
ing about  them. 

8.   The  Dangers  of  Imagination. 

So  powerful  an  activity  must  have  its  dangers  both  for 
the  intellectual  and  the  moral  life.  The  ability  to  create, 
involves  responsibility  for  what  is  created.  The  false  and 
the  inartistic  are  quite  as  possible  for  an  imaginative  mind 
as  the  true  and  artistic.  There  is  a  power  in  ideal  presence 
to  make  us  believe  what  Imagination  produces.  Errors  of 
every  kind  are  produced  through  the  influence  of  Imagi- 
nation. The  false  in  philosophy  and  the  perverted  in  art 
are  conspicuous  in  the  world.  One  may  come  to  despise 
the  real  because  it  is  forbidding,  and  to  love  the  romantic 
because  it  is  fascinating.  The  mathematician  sometimes 
demands  for  every  assertion  a  proof  like  his  demonstra- 
tion, without  comprehension  of  the  grounds  of  certitude 
in  the  realm  of  induction  and  probability.  He  imagines 
demonstration  possible  where  it  is  not.  The  inventor  may 
easily  become  a  visionary  and  plunge  himself  and  his  fam- 
ily into  poverty  and  distress.  The  philosopher  may  be  a 
n.ere  dreamer,  substituting  his  ideas  for  realities.  The 
artist  may  easily  mistake  personal  idiosyncrasies  of  taste 
for  canons  of  art.  The  moralist  also  may  confuse  propen- 
sities and  obligations.  The  eccentricities  of  genius  are 
notorious  and  the  harmony  and  safety  of  life  are  often 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  129 

sacrificed  for  whims  and  conceits.  The  stronger  the 
imaginative  tendency  in  a  person,  the  more  he  needs  the 
corrective  of  ^^  common  sense, '^  the  real  as  it  is  appre- 
hended by  the  majority,  to  sustain  his  equilibrium. 


9.  The  Conditions  of  Imaginative  Activity. 

There  are  certain  conditions  upon  which  the  activity  of 
Imagination  depends.     They  are 

(1)  The  presence  of  images. — This  depends  upon  the 
energy  of  Phantasy.  In  dull,  inert  minds  few  images  are 
presented  ;  in  narrow,  specialized  minds  only  a  certain 
common-2:)lace  class  of  images  are  awakened.  Childhood, 
as  a  period  of  general  activity,  is  favorable  to  the  activity 
of  Imagination,  but  it  is  likely  to  be  unrestrained  and 
undirected. 

(2)  A  decided  tendency  of  mind. — Unless  there  be  some 
strong  tendency,  awakened  by  desire  for  some  end,  the 
images  remain  stagnant  or  enter  into  mere  chance  combi- 
nation in  what  is  called  "  reverie,"  in  which  a  succession 
of  ideas  drifts  aimlessly  through  consciousness.  The  mu- 
sician, the  poet,  the  inventor  often  possess  this  tendency 
to  a  definite  kind  of  activity  in  a  marked  degree  and  such 
an  inborn  aptitude  is  called  "  genius."  It  is  usually  a 
jwonderful  capacity  for  one  kind  of  activity  and  an  equally 
remarkable  unfitness  for  others.  A  less  exalted  special 
aptitude,  yet  sufficiently  marked  for  notice,  is  what  we 
mean  by  "talent." 

(3)  A  voluntary  activity  of  mind. — Imagination  usually 
involves  a  jiu^'posive  action  of  the  soul.  No  one  writes  a 
great  poem  or  paints  a  great  picture  without  purposing  to 
do  so.     Imagination  can  be  directed  and  its  results  are^ 


130  PSYCHOLOGY. 

for  that  reason,  regarded  as  more  expressive  of  Individ  a- 
ality  or  personality  tlian  any  otlier  power  which  we  have 
so  far  considei-ed.  It  is  this  that  renders  the  artist, 
whether  in  literature  or  pictorial  art,  responsible  for  the 
character  of  his  Avork  and  justifies  our  condemnation  of 
the  man,  as  well  as  the  work,  when  the  moral  element  of 
a  production  is  censurable. 

10.  Relation  of  Imagination  to  Education. 

Imagination,  as  recombining  power,  is  essentially  re- 
lated to  the  whole  range  of  mental  development.  No 
study  can  be  pursued  without  its  aid.  No  productive  act 
of  mind  can  be  carried  on  without  it.  Upon  the  training 
which  it  receives  depends  the  quality  of  most  intellectnal 
efforts.  We  shall  consider,  then,  (1)  Imagination  in  Ac- 
quisition, (2)  Imagination  in  Production,  and  (3)  the 
Training  of  Imagination. 

(1)  Imagination  in  Acquisition. — All  study,  whether  of 
words  or  things,  involves  the  use  of  Imagination.  Read- 
ing or  listening,  if  we  gather  from  words  their  meaning, 
we  must  exercise  Imagination  in  combining  into  mental 
pictures  the  elements  suggested  by  separate  words,  in 
order  to  have  before  our  consciousness  what  the  writer  or 
speaker  had  before  his.  We  instantly  realize  the  differ- 
ence between  a  clear  and  a  confused  style  by  the  degree 
of  ease  we  have  in  translating  sentences  into  mental  equiv- 
alents. The  facility  with  which  different  minds  appre- 
hend meaning  depends  largely  upon  the  liveliness  of  Im- 
agination. But  even  when  we  study  things  directly, 
Imagination  is  necessary  to  complete  our  immediate 
knowledge.    As  we  have  seen  in  the  examination  of  Sense- 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  131 

perception^  the  senses  give  us  but  fragments  of  knowledge, 
to  be  combined  and  unified  in  the  mind.  We  see  but  one 
half  of  the  moon,  yet  we  must  think  of  that  which  appears 
to  be  a  circular  disc  as  if  it  were  a  sphere.  The  heart  of 
things  is  always  hidden,  yet  it  is  the  inner  constitution 
that  holds  the  true  meaning  of  everything.  No  one  can 
study  Chemistry,  Physics,  Astronomy,  or  Geology  without 
Imagination.  It  is  a  relating  activity  of  the  mind  and 
things  are  known  truly  only  in  their  relations.  Atoms 
and  molecules  are  not  visible,  the  correlation  of  forces 
sannot  be  seen,  the  solar  system  as  a  whole  is  not  pre- 
sented to  the  senses,  geological  periods  can  be  jiictured 
only  in  succession.  History  is  not  a  collection  of  names 
and  dates,  but  a  panorama  of  persons  and  events.  With- 
out historical  Imagination,  history  cannot  be  well  written 
or  com2)reliended.  Hence  it  is  that  we  learn  history  more 
truly  from  Sir  Walter  Scott's  romances  than  from  the 
Saxon  Chronicle,  and  every  great  historian  must  first  re- 
create the  past  by  Imagination  in  his  own  mind  before  he 
can  give  it  trutliful  portraiture. 

(2)  Imagination  in  Production. — Education  aims  to  im- 
part to  the  learner  some  measure  of  productive  power. 
In  school  this  usually  takes  the  form  of  composition-writ- 
ing. Here  Imagination  is  essential.  The  gras^:)  of  a  sub- 
ject, the  formation  of  a  plan,  the  search  for  materials,  the 
arrangement  of  them  for  a  purpose,  the  selection  of  figures 
of  speech,  the  use  of  language  as  a  medium  of  expres- 
sion,— all  involve  imaginative  activity.  The  difference 
between  Phantasy  and  Imagination  is  easily  discernible 
here.  The  mind  of  a  child  or  a  youth  is  usually  filled 
with  images  in  great  variety  and  profusion,  but  the  diffi- 
culty is  to  combine  these  into  new  and  coherent  wholes. 


132  PSYCnOLOGY. 

Evidently,  reproductive  power*  falls  far  short  of  recombin- 
ing  power.  The  relating  activity  is  demanded,  the  ability 
to  seize  upon  a  central  idea  and  array  others  about  it  in 
an  orderly  and  original  manner,  so  as  to  realize  a  purpose 
and  give  meaning  to  a  ^^rod notion.  Khetorical  practice  is 
an  effectual  intellectual  disci|)line.  It  affords,  perhaps, 
the  best  single  means  of  training  Imagination  which  is 
possible  to  school  exercises. 

(3)  The  Training  of  Imagination. — The  characteristic 
of  an  active  but  undisciplined  mind  is  exuberance,  a 
superfluity  of  images  and  ideas,  disorderly,  conflicting, 
lacking  in  unity  and  design,  like  the  rank  vegetable 
growth  of  a  tropical  forest.  The  aim  of  the  educator  is 
to  prune  away  redundancies  and  introduce  unity  and 
order.  The  best  means  of  training  are  the  contemplation 
and  analysis  of  masterpieces  on  the  one  hand,  and  per- 
sonal constructive  effort  on  the  other.  The  former  exer- 
cise a  refining  and  directing  influence  upon  the  learner, 
illustrating  what  is  to  be  avoided  and  what  is  to  be  at- 
tained in  a  work  of  Imagination.  Constructive  work  may 
then  be  undertaken.  The  judicious  teacher  will  be  able 
to  apply  the  principles  of  correct  taste  in  detail  and  thus, 
by  kindly  criticism,  gradually  cultivate  the  right  use  of 
Imagination.  The  wider  one's  knowledge  of  facts  and 
princij^les,  the  more  vitally  does  the  mind  seize  a  central 
idea  and  employ  it  in  construction  ;  hence,  the  more  sober 
and  informing  studies  are  useful  in  giving  insight  and 
harmony  to  the  operations  of  Imagination.  Spontaneity 
in  mental  creation  is  the  sign  of  genius,  but  it  usually 
needs  to  be  directed  and  enlightened,  in  order  to  attain 
real  excellence.  Even  genius,  therefore,  is  compelled  to 
observe  certain  rules  and  principles. 


REPRESENTATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  133 

In  this   Section,  on  "  Imagination,"  we  have  con- 
sidered : — 

1,  Definition  of  Imagination, 

2,  The  Creative  Energy  of  Imagination, 

3,  T/ie  Character  of  Imaginative  Activity* 

4,  The  Limitations  of  Imagination. 

5,  Varieties  of  Imagination* 
O.  Expectation, 

7.  Uses  of  Imagination, 

8.  The  Danger's  of  Imagination, 

9.  The  Conditions  of  Imaginative  Activity, 
10,  lielation  of  Imagination  to  Education, 

B,EFEREXCES  :  (1)  Wordsworth's  Preface  to  his  Works,  I.  (3)  Ir- 
ving's  Sketch  Book.  (3)  Fleming's  Vocabulary,  p.  241.  (4)  Rus- 
kin's  Modern  Painters,  II.,  p.  161.  (5)  Id.,  pp.  163,  164.  (6)  Id., 
p.  165.  (7)  Lotze's  Outli7ies  of  Psychology,  p.  40.  (8)  Ruskin's 
Modern  Pai7iters,  II.,  p.  150.  (9)  S«e  Jevoiis'  PriJiciples  of  Science, 
pp.  576,  577. 


CHAPTEH    IIL 

ELABORATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

DEFINITION   AND    DIVISION    OF   ELABORATIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

Elaborative  knowledge  consists  of  presentative  and  repre- 
sentative knowledge  worked  out  by  purely  psychical  proc- 
esses into  higher  and  more  general  forms.  The  iiiime 
is  derived  from  the  Latin  elahordre,  to  work  out,  and 
implies  a  special  intellectual  activity.  It  is  identical 
with  what  is  known  as  "  thought,"  as  distinguished  from 
presentative  and  representative  knowledge.  It  is  some- 
times called  also  "  discursive  knowledge,"  because  it  is 
derived  by  a  discursive  process.  It  includes  what  was 
designated  by  Locke,  "  reflection,"  or  the  process  of 
examining  the  simpler  elements  of  knowledge  and  deriv- 
ing from  them  more  general  truth.  It  is  based  upon 
certain  "laws  of  thought,"  which  constitute  the  subject- 
matter  of  \jOgiQ,,  and  will  be  discussed  later  on.  It  derives 
its  validity  from  the  certainty  of  the  presentative  and  rep- 
resentative elements  of  knowledge  employed  and  the  faith- 
ful observance  of  the  laws  of  thought.  Elaborative  knowl= 
edge  is  worked  out  by  three  processes,  as  follows  :  (1) 
Conception,  which  is  the  formation  of  abstract  or  general 
ideas ;  (2)  Judgment,  which  is  the  assertion  of  agreement  or 
disagreement  between  ideas  ;  and  (3)  Reasoning,  which  is 
a  process  of  inference,  or  arrangement  of  ideas  and  judg- 
ments according  to  the  laws  of  thought.  These  processes 
will  constitute  the  topics  of  the  sections  in  this  Chapter. 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  135 

SEGTION    L 
CONCEPTION. 

1.  Use  of  the  Word  "Conception." 
The  word  *'  Conception  "  has  been  used  in  a  variety  of 
senses.  It  is  applied  to  the  power,  the  process,  and  the 
product  of  forming  abstract  or  general  ideas,  but  recent 
writers  have  chosen  the  word  "  Concept  "  to  designate  the 
product  of  Conception.  In  the  older  works  on  the  sub- 
ject, the  word  is  used  with  the  widest  latitude  of  meaning. 
AVe  shall  use  it  for  the  i)OiDer  and  the  process  only,  the 
poverty  of  language  compelling  us  to  this  ambiguity. 

2.  The  Process  of  Conception. 

Conception  (from  the  I^atin  con,  with,  and  capere,  to 
take,  implying  a  taking  or  grasping  together)  is  the 
process  of  forming  abstract  or  general  ideas.  The  nature 
of  Conception  can  be  best  exhibited  by  an  examination  of 
the  process  by  which  such  ideas  are  formed.  This  process 
consists  of  the  following  steps  : 

(1)  Presentation. — I  walk  out  into  a  garden  and  my 
senses  reveal  a  great  number  of  objects.  By  Sense-per- 
ception I  know  them  as  individuals.  I  perceive  a  tree. 
I  observe  that  it  has  branches  and  leaves.  I  see  curved 
and  straight  lines,  brown  leaves  and  green  leaves.  I  hear 
the  wind  blowing  through  the  tree-tops.  I  pick  up  a 
branch  and  touch  it.  I  put  a  leaf  into  my  mouth  and 
taste  it.  These  are  presentations  of  Sense-perception. 
Up  to  this  point  all  the  objects  are  known  only  as  par  tic- 


136  PSYCHOLOGY. 

ular  individuals.     Here  the  elaborative   process  is  fur- 
nished with  its  materials. 

(2)  Comparison. — When  I  have  perceived  these  objects, 
1  am  led  to  observe  that  they  have  both  resemblances  and 
differences.  I  continue  this  act  of  comparison,  comparing 
the  objects  with  one  another  and  noticing  their  likenesses 
and  unlikenesses.  I  find  that  some  leaves  are  green, 
others  are  brown,  others  are  yellow,  others  are  red.  I 
find  that  some  are  nearly  circular,  some  are  oval,  some 
are  pointed.  I  look  again  and  find  that  all  are  thin  and 
possess  little  veins  branching  out  from  one  another,  or 
from  a  common  stem. 

(3)  Abstraction. — Having  discovered  that  thinness  and 
a  veined  structure  are  characteristic  of  many  leaves,  I  con- 
sider these  qualities  (q)art  from  the  other  peculiarities  of 
form  and  color  and  shape.  In  other  words,  I  abstract 
(from  the  Latin  ah,  off,  and  tr alter e,  to  draw),  or  draw 
off,  for  further  attention,  the  common  qualities  of  the 
objects  examined.     This  is  called  abstraction. 

(4)  Generalization. — I  now  find  that  these  qualities, 
thinness  and  a  veined  structure,  belong  to  the  objects 
examined  in  common,  and  I  see  no  leaf  without  them. 
They  become  to  my  mind  the  general  qualities  of  that 
class  of  objects.  When  I  have  them  in  mind,  I  do  not 
now  think  of  any  particular  leaf  in  the  garden,  but  thin- 
ness and  a  veined  structure  come  to  be  regarded  by  me  as 
belonging  to  a7iy  leaf  whatever.  I  thus  generalize  (from 
the  Latin  genus,  kind  or  class),  or  extend  to  the  whole 
class,  the  results  of  my  observation,  and  this  process  is 
called  generalization. 

(5)  Denomination. — After  having  formed  this  general 
notion  of  a  leaf,   I  may  consider  it  for  a  time  without 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  137 

afl&xing  any  name  by  which  to  distinguish  it  from  other 
ideas,  to  recognize  it  in  the  future,  or  to  communicate  it 
to  others.  But  if  I  leave  the  newly  formed  notion,  ab- 
stracted from  all  definite  material  associations,  unmarked 
by  any  sign,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  reproduce  it  for  my^ 
owri  use  or  to  communicate  it  to  another  person.  The 
reason  of  this  is  ^^lain.  A  general  notion,  abstract  idea, 
or  concept,  such  as  we  have  now  formed,  is  not  a  form 
of  sense  -  knowledge,  and  cannot  be  easily  reproduced 
and  recognized.  A  name  is  a  form  of  sense-knowledge, 
and  can  be  reproduced  like  any  other  image  or  concrete 
idea.  In  order  to  provide  an  instrument  for  farther 
thinking,  and  in  order  to  convey  my  meaning  to  another 
person,  I  call  my  concept  by  the  word  ^^  leafy''  which  is 
an  audi])le  and  visible  sense-sign,  or  symbol,  and  this  step 
is  denomination,  or  naming.  Such  a  word  is  called  a 
"general  term." 


It  is  evident  that  language  has  its  origin  with  a  being  capable  of 
abstraction.  The  creatures  lower  in  the  scale  of  being  than  man 
have  no  language,  in  the  sense  of  articulate  and  rational  speech,  and 
they  have  no  power  of  rational  thinking.  They  are  wanting  in  the 
necessary  instrument  of  thought,  languag^e,  and  they  are  without  it 
because  they  have  not  the  intellectual  power  to  create  it.^  We  do  not 
name  until  we  have  abstracted.  The  objects  of  Sense-perception,  as 
particular  individuals,  arc  too  rich  in  qualities  to  afford  a  ground 
for  naming.  Suppose  we  wish  to  name  a  horse.  We  must  fit  the 
name  to  his  qualities.  We  cannot  find  a  name  to  designate  them  all. 
We  find  a  name  for  him  by  abstracting  a  leading  quality  or  action. 
The  horse  runs.  Our  Aryan  ancestors  seized  upon  this  action  of  the 
horse  and  named  him,  "  that-whicJi-runs."  A  dominant  character- 
istic is  thus  singled  out  from  the  multiplicity  of  qualities  and  upon 
this  the  name  is  based.  The  roots  of  words  in  all  languages  are  ab- 
stract words,  that  is,  names  of  qualities,  or  actions,  not  of  things. 
Philologists  tell  us  that  general  ideas  precede  all  speech.     We  have 


138  PSYCHOLOGY. 

seen  the  reason  of  it.  If  language  proceeds  thus  from  abstraction 
and  generalization,  we  understand  why  it  is  designated  by  the  word 
Tieyeiv,  which  signifies  to  choose,  to  gather  ;  for,  in  order  to  form  the 
root  which  names  the  thing,  there  is  necessary  a  prevailing  choice 
eliminating  all  the  secondary  characters  by  an  act  of  Will.  Thus, 
we  see,  the  development  of  language  is  simply  the  development  of 
Reason,  -tnd  the  wise  Greeks  designated  both  speech  and  reason  by 
^he  same  word,  Voyoq.  The  utterances  of  the  animals  are  purely  sub- 
jective, expressive  of  feeling,  not  of  ideas.  Animals  emit  noises, — 
emotional  sounds,  such  as  grunts,  snorts  and  growls, — ^but  not  words. 
Their  knowledge  is  of  particulars  only,  not  of  general  qualities  ab- 
stracted from  their  concrete  combinations.  They  have  no  abstract 
ideas  and,  hence,  do  not  reason  as  men  do.  The  word  becomes  to 
man  the  instrument  of  thought  and  of  its  expression.  It  makes 
possible  to  him  tradition  and  history,  so  that  the  past  lives  in  the 
present  and  the  thoughts  of  each  generation  become  the  heritage  of 
the  next.  Thus  science  and  philosophy,  which  are  impossible  to 
brutes,  become  the  possessions  of  men.  These  topics  and  many 
others  of  psychological  interest  are  fully  and  ably  discussed  by  the 
eminent  philologist  F.  Max  Miiller  (1823-  ),  in  his  "  Science  of 
Thought." 

3.  The  Completed  Concept. 

Having  traced  the  formation  of  a  concept^  we  may  now 
ask.  What,  precisely,  is  the  nature  of  this  product  ?  We 
may  note  the  following  negative  and  positive  traits  : 

(1)  A  Concept  is  not  a  Percept. — A  percept  is  i7idivid- 
ual  and  its  union  with  other  percepts  is  either  a  new  indi- 
vidual whole  or  a  collection  of  individuals,  while  a  concept 
is  general. 

(2)  A  Concept  is  not  an  Image. — The  difference  between 
a  concept  and  an  image  is  as  marked  as  that  between  a 
concept  and  a  percept.  An  image  is  an  individual  or  a 
group  of  individuals. 

(3)  A  Concept  combines  similar  qualities. — A  concept 
unites  in  one  form  of  knowledge  the  resemblances  which 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  \U^ 

have  been  observed  in  individual  objects,  and  thus  em- 
braces what  is  common  to  them  all.  The  lower  animals 
observe  resemblances  and  differences  as  well  as  man,  and, 
by  their  superior  keenness  of  sense,  sometimes  more  read- 
ily ;  but  a  brute  is  not  known  to  have  the  power  to  com- 
bine like  qualities  into  a  unit  of  knowledge,  a  concept. 

(4)  A  Concept  is  purely  relative. — It  has  no  meaning 
except  in  relation  to  all  the  individual  things  for  which  it 
stands.  It  is  variously  called  a  "  general  notion,"  an  "  ab- 
stract idea,"  or  a  "  universal,"  because  it  applies  equally 
well  to  any  one  of  a  class  or  kind  of  individuals. 

(5)  A  Concept  is  an  incomplete  form  of  Knowledge. — 
As  a  concejit  combines  only  certain  common,  or  general, 
qualities,  it  excludes  all  those  which  are  peculiar  to  indi- 
viduals and  not  common  to  a  class.  Thus,  if  I  think  of 
a  "\Qid'^  as  something  '^'^thin  and  of  a  veined  structure," 
I  have  an  incomplete  knowledge  of  a  ^''leaf  "  in  that  con- 
cept;  for  every  actual  "\Q?d"  has,  in  addition  to  these 
common  qualities,  some  definite  outline,  size,  and  color, 
which  must  be  added,  to  form  a  complete  knowledge  of  it. 

Galton  has  suggested  that  abstract  ideas,  or  concepts,  may  be 
regarded  as  "  generic  images  "  or  "composite  pictures."  He  has 
illustrated  his  meaning  by  means  of  "  composite  photographs,"  or 
photographs  in  which  a  great  number — sometimes  as  many  as  forty 
or  fifty — of  individual  faces  are  combined  in  one  composite  picture. 
He  says  :  "I  doubt  whether  'abstract  idea  '  is  a  correct  phrase  in 
many  of  the  cases  in  which  it  is  used,  and  whether  '  cumulative  idea ' 
would  not  be  more  appropriate.  The  ideal  faces  obtained  by  the 
method  of  composite  portraiture  appear  to  have  a  great  deal  in  com- 
mon with  these  so-called  abstract  ideas.  The  composite  portraits 
consist  of  numerous  superimposed  pictures,  forming  a  cumulative 
result  in  which  the  features  that  are  common  to  all  the  likenesses 
are  clearly  seen  ;  those  that  are  common  to  few  are  relatively  faint 
and  are  more  or  less  overlooked,  while  those  that  are  peculiar  to 


140  PSYCHOLOGY. 

single  individuals  leave  no  sensible  trace  at  all."  ^  This  is  an  ingen- 
ious suggestion  and,  without  doubt,  there  are  mental  composites, 
formed  by  Imagination,  which  correspond  closely  to  the  composite 
portraits  produced  by  photography  ;  but  every  such  composite  image 
has  a  definite  size,  form  and  color,  while  a  concept,  or  abstract  idea, 
has  no  definite  size,  form  or  color.  Our  concept  "  horse,"  for  exam- 
ple, stands  for  all  the  individuals  of  the  horse  kind,  from  a  diminu- 
tive Shetland  pony  to  a  ponderous  Clydesdale  draught-horse,  and  of 
any  color  between  the  extremes  of  white  and  black.  A  concept  is 
something  far  more  attenuated  and  immaterial  than  any  composite 
picture  which  can  be  produced.  We  have,  however,  a  mental  ten- 
dency to  substitute  an  image  for  a  concept  in  our  actual  thinking. 
The  image  thus  substituted  is  rather  some  well-known  individual 
than  a  composite.  Galton  has  himself  illustrated  this  in  another 
place.  "Suppose,"  says  he,  "a  person  suddenly  to  accost  another 
with  the  following  words  :  '  I  want  to  tell  you  about  a  hoat.^  What 
is  the  idea  that  the  word  '  boat '  would  be  likely  to  call  up  ?  I  tried 
the  experiment  with  this  result.  One  person,  a  young  lady,  said 
that  she  immediately  saw  the  image  of  a  rather  large  boat  pushing 
off  from  the  shore,  and  that  it  was  full  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  the 
ladies  being  dressed  in  white  and  blue.  It  is  obvious  that  a  tendency 
to  give  so  specific  an  interpretation  to  a  general  word  is  absolutely 
opposed  to  philosophic  thought.  Another  person,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  philosophize,  said  that  the  word  '  boat '  had  aroused  no 
definite  image,  because  he  had  purposely  held  his  mind  in  suspense. 
He  had  exerted  himself  not  to  lapse  into  any  one  of  the  special  ideas 
that  he  felt  the  word  '  boat '  was  ready  to  call  up,  such  as  a  skiff, 
wherry,  barge,  launch,  punt  or  dingy.  Much  more  did  he  refuse  to 
think  of  any  one  of  these  with  any  particular  freight  or  from  any 
particular  point  of  view.  A  habit  of  suppressing  mental  imagery 
must,  therefore,  characterize  men  who  deal  much  with  abstract  ideas ; 
and,  as  the  power  of  dealing  easily  and  firmly  with  these  ideas  is  the 
surest  criterion  of  a  high  order  of  intellect,  we  should  expect  the 
visualizing  faculty  would  be  starved  by  disuse  among  philosophers, 
and  this  is  precisely  what  I  found  on  inquiry  to  be  the  case."^  This 
goes  to  show  that  abstract  ideas  are  not  images  of  any  kind,  but  that 
persons  with  untrained  minds  use  concrete  images  in  place  of  them, 
thus  missing  that  accuracy  and  precision  of  thought  which  they  are 
fitted  to  serve. 


ELABOBATIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  141 


4.  The  Keality  of  Concepts. 

The  abstract  nature  of  concepts  has  led  to  a  long 
and  even  bitter  controversy  on  the  following  questions  : 
(1)  Have  concepts^  or  universals,  external  existence,  or  do 
they  exist  in  the  mind  only  ?  (2)  If  they  have  external 
existence,  are  they  corporeal  or  incorjjoreal?  (3)  Are 
they  separable  from  sensible  objects,  or  do  they  subsist 
in  these  only  ?  Four  principal  views  have  been  held  on 
these  questions,  the  last  very  recently  presented,  which 
are  known  as  Realism,  Nominalism,  Conceptualism  and 
Eelationism.     We  shall  examine  these  views  separately. 

5.  Kealism. 

There  are  two  classes  of  Realists,  differing  quite  materi- 
ally in  their  views. 

(1)  The  Extreme  Realists  maintain  the  doctrine  attrib- 
uted to  Plato  (430-347,  B.C.),  that  universals  have  exist- 
ence separate  from  and  independent  of  individual  objects. 
For  example,  in  addition  to  this,  that,  and  the  other  par- 
ticular mountain,  visible  to  the  sense,  there  is,  really  ex- 
isting, mountain  in  the  abstract.  They  hold  that  uni- 
versals existed  before  individuals.  Their  view  is  expressed 
in  the  Latin  formula,  Universalia  ante  rem,  "Universals 
before  the  thing.  ^^  The  doctrine  rests  on  Plato^s  opinion 
that  ideas  are  eternal. 

(2)  The  Moderate  Realists  accept  the  opinion  of  Aris- 
totle (384-322,  B.C.),  tliat,  while  universals  have  a  real 
existence,  they  exist  not  before,  but  only  in,  individual 
objects.  Their  view  is  expressed  in  the  formula,  Uni' 
versalia  in  re^  '^^^  Universals  in  the  thing." 


142  PSYCHOLOGY. 

A  brief  historic  outline  of  these  doctrines  may  bo  of  interest  in 
throwing  light  upon  the  nature  of  concepts.  Socrates  (469-396, 
B.C.)  insisted  upon  the  importance  of  forming  concepts  of  things,  in 
order  to  rise  from  the  particular  to  the  universal,  and  advocated  their 
objective  validity.  He  did  nothing,  however,  to  explain  the  nature, 
of  concepts.  Plato  advocated  more  strenuously  than  Socrates  the 
necessity  of  this  higher  knowledge,  and  taught  that  we  must  rise 
from  the  individual  and  transitory  to  the  idea  of  the  universal  and 
eternal.  This  ultimate  object  of  intelligence  is  the  idea  {tj  Idea  or 
TO  eldoc).  Plato  does  not  teach  where  ideas,  in  this  transcendental 
sense,  exist,  but  he  regards  them  as  the  only  true  realities  and  eternal 
in  their  nature.  Things  and  events  are  only  the  passing  shadows  of 
ideas.  The  highest  idea  is  that  of  God.  Plato  ascribes  to  ideas 
wonderful  powers  and  personifies  them,  in  order  to  make  his  philos- 
ophy acceptable  to  the  common  mind.  He  treats  them  sometimes  in 
a  poetic  rather  than  a  scientific  manner,  and  finally  gives  to  his  teach- 
ing the  qualities  of  intellectual  romance.  Aristotle  regards  individ- 
ual things  as  the  only  truly  real  beings,  or  primary  entities  {npurai 
ovalai)  as  he  calls  them.  Concepts,  or  universals,  he  calls  secondary 
entities  (Sevrepac  ovalat),  and  distinguishes  them  from  primary  enti- 
ties as  foi^m  is  distinguished  from  matter.  The  form  exists  i7i  the 
matter,  but  is  7iot  the  matter.  Form  is  universal,  matter  is  particu- 
lar. Aristotle  wished  to  avoid  that  hypostasizing  of  universals  which 
he  criticised  in  Plato,  that  is,  the  regarding  universals  as  real,  apart 
from  the  individuals  to  which  they  belong.  His  followers,  however, 
were  not  attentive  to  this  point,  and  came  at  last  to  consider  uni- 
versals as  realities  in  a  sense  not  intended  by  their  master. 


6.    Nominalism. 

The  Nominalists  hold  that  individuals  only  have  real 
existence,  and  that  universals  are  merely  groups  of  resem- 
blances held  together  by  a  name.  Universals  have  no 
existence,  except  as  names  signifying  certain  qualities  be- 
longing in  common  to  many  things.  Hobbes  says  :  ''  The 
universality  of  one  name  to  many  things  hath  been  the 
cause  that  men  think  the  things  themselves  are  universal ; 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  143 

and  so  seriously  contend  tliat^  besides  Peter  and  John  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  men  that  are^  have  been,  or  shall  be  in 
the  world,  there  is  something  else  that  we  call  iikdi,  viz.: 
7nan  in  g  cue  nil,  deceiving  themselves  by  taking  the  uni- 
versal  or  general  appellation  for  the  thing  it  signifieth/^ 
The  view  of  the  Nominalists  is  expressed  by  the  formula, 
TJniveraalia  j^ost  rem,  ''Universals  ctfter  the  thing." 
They  are  represented  among  modern  philosophers  by  the 
Associational  School  of  thinkers. 

Realism  of  some  kind  was  practically  universal  among  the  thinkers 
of  antiquity.  Tlic  Sophists  of  Greece,  prior  to  the  time  of  Socrates, 
had  fallen  into  a  practical  Nominalism,  attempting  as  they  did  to 
prove  anything  and  treating  words  as  standing  for  nothing  fixed  and 
absolute.  With  this  exception,  philosophers  regarded  general  notions 
as  representative  of  realities.  In  the  third  century  of  the  Christiaii 
era,  Porphyry  (233-304)  wrote  a  preface  to  Aristotle's  work  on  the 
Categories,  which  was  translated  into  Latin  from  the  Greek  by 
Boethius  (470-526).  This  was  the  occasion  of  the  controversy  on 
the  nature  of  universals.  Dogmatic  theology  allied  itself  to  Realism. 
The  earlier  disputes  were  between  the  extreme  and  the  moderate 
Realists,  Scotus  Erigena  (died,  888)  reviving  the  extreme  Realism 
of  Plato  in  opposition  to  the  moderate  Realism  of  the  Aristotelians 
which  was  generally  accepted  by  theologians.  Roscellinus  of  Com- 
piegne  (f.  1092),  though  probably  not  the  originator  of  Nominalism, 
taught  that  universals  have  no  substantive  or  objective  existence,  but 
are  mere  names,  and  was  compelled  to  recant  this  alleged  heresy, 
which  was  regarded  as  involving  a  false  doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  The 
doctrine  of  Nominalism,  thus  placed  under  ecclesiastical  ban,  was 
destined  to  become  a  prevailing  position  of  philosophers.  The  view 
of  Hobbes  has  been  already  given  in  the  quotation  cited  above.  It 
has  become  the  inheritance  of  the  Associational  School  of  thought  as 
represented  by  Hume,  the  two  Mills,  Bain  and  Spencer.  J.  S.  Mill 
admits,  however,  a  double  significance  of  a  concept,  its  denotation, 
or  the  things  noted  by  the  name,  answering  to  the  extension  of  a 
term,  and  its  connotation,  or  the  attributes  noted  by  the  name, 
answering  to  the  comprehension  of  a  term,  as  treated  by  logicians. 


144  PSYCHOLOGY. 

7.  Conceptualism. 

The  Conceptualists  agree  with  the  Nominalists  in  hold- 
ing that  individuals  only  have  real  or  objective  existence, 
and  that  universals  exist  in  the  mind  only,  being  formed  by 
abstracting  and  generalizing  common  qualities.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  name,  however,  they  believe  in  the  existence  of  a 
mental  state  which  they  call  a  "  concept/^  The  formula  of 
the  Nominalists,  UniversaUa  2^ost  rem,  ''^Universals  after 
the  thing, ^^  also  expresses  the  doctrine  of  Conceptualists. 
Conceptualism  is  commonly  accepted  by  modern  philoso- 
phers. It  vindicates  itself  against  Eealism  by  the  impossi- 
bility of  explaining  just  ivliat  and  where  the  objective 
realities  said  to  correspond  to  universals  are ;  and  against 
Nominalism  by  the  facts  that  in  consciousness  we  regard  the 
imjyort  of  the  name,  that  is,  the  concept,  rather  than  the 
name  itself  ;  and  that  knowledge  of  concepts  iwecedes 
and  determines  the  selection  of  names  to  designate  them. 

The  historic  origin  of  Conceptualism  is  somewhat  obscure.  Some 
have  attributed  it  to  Abeiard  (1079-1142),  but  William  of  Occam 
(died,  1347)  seems  to  have  been  the  chief,  if  not  the  earliest,  repre- 
sentative of  Conceptualism.  Conceptualism  bears  such  close  relation 
to  Nominalism  that  Conceptualists  are  sometimes  called  "  Moderate 
^Nominalists."  Locke,  Reid  and  Brown  were  Conceptualists.  The 
closeness  of  the  alliance  between  Nominalism  and  Conceptualism  is 
striking  when  we  consider  that  Hamilton  sometimes  speaks  like  a 
Nominalist  (in  his  * '  Lectures  on  Metaphysics  "),  and  sometimes  like 
a  Conceptualist  (in  his  "Lectures  on  Logic").  Kant  is  so  remote 
from  Realism  that  he  regards  the  concept  as  entirely  the  product  of 
the  mind  and  yet  he  is  not  a  Nominalist,  because  he  regards  the  con- 
cept as  mentally  real  apart  from  the  name.  For  him  the  concept 
[Begriff)  is  the  product  of  the  Understanding  (  Verstatid)  and  derives 
its  form  entirely  from  the  inhereiit  forms  of  the  mind.  This  is  the 
origin  of  Kant's  Subjectivism,  denying  any  knowledge  whatever  of 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDaE.  145 

Reality  {Noumenon)  and  considering  it  as  pertaining  wholly  to  ap- 
pearances {Phenomena).  Quantity,  Quality,  Cause,  Space  and  Time 
are,  for  Kant,  simply  suhjedive  forms  of  the  mind  itself,  without 
objective  existence.  J.  G.  Fichte  (1762-1814)  pushed  this  view  so  far 
as  to  regard  the  entire  universe  as  an  evolution  of  the  Ego  by  a  pro- 
3ess  of  thinking.  G.  W.  F.  Hegel  (1770-1831)  went  still  farther  and 
I  denied  all  reality,  both  subjective  and  objective,  except  the  process 
•  of  thought  itself.  The  inconsistency  and  emptiness  of  Phenomenal- 
ism, tlie  logical  result  of  Nominalism  and  Conceptualism  in  the  En- 
glish and  German  philosophies  emanating  from  Hume  and  Kant  and 
their  followers,  have  been  ably  pointed  out  by  an  American  thinker, 
Francis  E.  Abbot  (1836-       )." 

8.  Relationism. 

This  is  a  new  formulation  of  the  truth  that  is  divided 
between  the  three  forms  of  doctrine  already  stated.  It 
teaches  that  universals  are  (1)  objective  relations  of  resem- 
hlance  among  objectively  existing  things  ;  (2)  s^ibjective 
concepts  of  these  relations^  determined  in  the  mind  by 
the  relations  themselves  ;  and,  (3)  names,  rej^resentative 
both  of  the  relations  and  the  concepts,  and  applicable  to 
them  both.  The  formula  of  this  theory  is,  Ujiiversalia 
inter  res,  "Universals  among  things. ^^ 

This  theory  has  been  formulated  by  Francis  E.  Abbot,  in  whose 
words  the  statement  of  doctrine  above  is  given.  Brown  long  ago 
said  that  he  would  prefer  to  be  called  a  *'  Relationist,"  but  the  clear 
and  satisfactory  formulation  of  Relationism  is  due  to  Abbot.  He 
holds  that  the  doctrine  rests  upon  the  following  self-evident  prop- 
ositions :  ''(1)  Relations  are  absolutely  inseparable  from  their  terms. 
(2)  The  relations  of  things  are  absolutely  inseparable  from  the  things 
themselves.  (3)  The  relations  of  things  must  exist  where  the  things 
themselves  are,  whether  objectively  in  the  cosmos  or  subjectively  in 
the  mind.  (4)  If  things  exist  objectively,  their  relations  must  exist 
objectively ;  but  if  their  relations  are  merely  subjective,  the  things 
themselves  must  be  merely  subjective.  (5)  There  is  no  logical  alter- 
native between  affirming  the  objectivity  of  relations  in  and  with 


146  PSYCHOLOGY. 

that  of  things  and  denymg  the  objectivity  of  things  in  and  with  that 
of  relations.  For  instance,  a  triangle  consists  of  six  elements,  tliree 
sides  and  three  angles.  The  sides  are  things  ;  the  angles  are  rela- 
tions—relations of  greater  or  less  divergence  between  the  sides.  If 
the  sides  exist  objectively,  the  angles  must  exist  objectively  also  ; 
but  if  the  angles  are  merely  subjective,  so  must  the  sides  be  also. 
To  affirm  that  the  sides  are  objective  realities,  even  as  incognizable 
things-in-themselves,  while  yet  the  angles,  as  relations,  have  only  a 
subjective  existence,  is  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  logical  absurdity.  Yet 
Kantianism,  Nominalism,  and  all  Nominalistic  philosophy  (if  they 
admit  so  much  as  the  bare  possibility  of  the  existence  of  things-in- 
themselves)  are  driven  irresistibly  to  this  conclusion."^  This  writer 
clearly  shows  that,  if  we  deny  objective  reality,  we  are  finally  shut 
up  to  Phenomenalism  and  this  must  assume  the  form  of  Individual 
Idealism,  that  is,  our  knowledge  is  of  mental  states  alone,  and  all 
objective  science  becomes  impossible.  The  scientific  method,  on 
the  contrary,  assumes  the  reality  of  things  and  of  their  relations, 
and  scientific  verification  presents  a  confirmation  of  this  assump- 
tion in  the  positive  results  of  established  science.  The  breach  be- 
tween Subjectivism  in  philosophy  and  Objectivism  in  science  is  now 
so  wide  that  Science  and  Philosophy  seem  to  represent  two  hostile 
camps,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  exact  to  say,  two  separate  fields 
of  labor  where  men  are  working  by  diametrically  opposite  methods. 
The  unsophisticated  soul  finds  no  antagonism  between  its  internal 
experiences  and  its  objective  knowledge  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  be- 
lieves that  they  are  in  perfect  harmony.  This  shows  that  Subjectiv- 
ism in  philosophy  is  not  the  product  of  a  true  psychological  method 
but  of  a  theory  of  ideas  that  is  false  from  the  beginning.  Mill  and 
Kant  have  both  done  violence  to  the  facts  of  consciousness  in  shut-', 
ting  the  soul  in  from  the  objective  world.  We  find  relations  where 
the  things  related  are,  whether  within  or  outside  of  self.  Self  knows 
that  it  is  circumscribed  and  yet  knows  verifiable  relations  beyond 
itself.  The  primary  affirmations  of  the  soul  (see  page  6)  formulate 
our  conscious  knowledge  upon  this  point. 


9.  Perfect  and  Imperfect  Concepts. 

If  a  concept  is  a  system  of  relations  apprehended  by 
the  mind,  it  is  evident  that  it  may  be  perfect  or  imperfect. 


ELABORATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  147 

according  as  the  actual  relations  between  things  are  or  are 
not  fully  and  correctly  apprehended.  A  concept  may  be 
too  tvidc,  that  is,  it  may  include  more  than  the  real  things 
include ;  or  it  may  be  too  narroio,  that  is,  it  may  include 
less.  Our  concepts  are  formed  with  varying  degrees  of 
attention  to  real  relations.  We  connect  certain  concepts 
with  certain  words  without  fully  comprehending  the  sig- 
nification of  the  words.  Words  themselves  are  ambiguous, 
at  times  including  less  and  at  times  more  of  meaning  than 
at  others.  We  are  thus  exposed  to  liabilities  of  error  in 
our  processes  of  judgment  and  reasoning  based  on  con- 
cepts. It  is  the  business  of  Logic,  as  the  science  of 
thought,  to  lay  down  rules  to  guide  us  in  the  practical  use 
of  concepts,  and  hence  we  need  not  enter  farther  upon 
this  subject  here. 

10.  The  Hypostasizing  of  Abstract  Ideas. 

A  quality  abstracted  from  a  thing  and  the  relations 
existing  between  things,  held  in  the  mind  as  concepts,  are 
not  tilings,  but  qualities  and  relations.  "  Greenness,"'  for 
example,  is  not  a  tiling,  but  a  quality.  '^  Man,""  taken  as 
a  general  term,  is  not  a  thing,  but  a  concept,  or  system  of 
relations  of  resemblance  found  among  men.  Ilobbes  was 
right  in  holding  that  it  is  nonsense  to  speak  of  '"man"" 
apart  from  all  individual  men.  The  doctrine  of  Relation- 
ism  holds  that  universals  have  reality  only  among  the 
things  related,  that  is,  as  relations.  Evidently,  then,  we 
fall  into  a  great  error  if  we  regard  a  concept,  or  system 
of  relations,  as  if  it  were  a  substantial  thing.  Such  a 
mental  act  is  called  the  hypostasizing  of  an  idea  (from  the 
Greek  vtto,  hypo,  under,  and  iGrrjiM,  histemi,  to  stand), 
implying  the  mental  placing  of  a  substance  under  the  ab- 


148  PSYCHOLOGY. 

stract  idea.  Many  erroneous  systems  of  tliouglit  originate 
from  this  radical  error  of  treating  an  abstract  quality  or  a 
system  of  relations  as  if  it  had  independent  and  substan- 
tial existence.  We  have  a  tendency  to  treat  every  name  as 
if  it  stood  for  a  thing,  whereas  many  names  stand  for  qual- 
ities or  relations  which  have  no  separate  existence  ajoart 
from  the  things  of  which  they  are  qualities  or  relations. 

As  an  example  of  this  error  in  philosophy,  take  Hegel's  use  of 

what  he  calls  "  the  idea,'''  which,  as  an  empty  abstraction,  is  capable 
of  being  used  in  any  way  one  fancies  without  apparent  inconsistency 
so  long  as  one  is  strictly  logical  in  the  treatment  of  it,  that  is,  so  long 
as  self-contradictions  are  not  introduced.  Out  of  this  "»^ea,"  which 
is  so  void  of  positive  content  that  it  can  be  identified  with  non-being, 
he  manages  by  logical  jugglery  to  evolve  the  universe!  This  is  the 
great  vice  of  Metaphysics, — the  treatment  of  abstract  ideas  as  ij 
they  ivere  realities. 


11.  Relation  of  Conception  to  Education. 

Conception  has  a  threefold  relation  to  education  :  (1)  it 
is  essential  to  scientific  knowledge  ;  (2)  it  is  developed  by 
linguistic  study ;  and  (3)  it  affords  a  criterion  for  the 
order  of  study. 

(1)  Scientific  Knowledge. — Science  is  not  an  accumula- 
tion of  isolated  facts,  but  of  facts  grouped  in  classes,  ex- 
plained by  laws,  and  expressed  by  a  suitable  nomenclature. 
Abstraction  and  generalization  are  necessary  for  the  forma- 
tion of  classes,  the  discovery  of  laws,  and  the  application  of 
names.  The  mere  inspection  of  plants,  for  example,  does 
not  give  us  Botany.  It  is  by  comparison  of  numerous 
plants  that  we  reach  the  principles  of  classification.  Ab- 
straction is  then  employed  in  classing  separate  plants  under 
these  principles.      By  generalization  we  reach  universal 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  149 

terms  Vi  hicli  designate  all  the  plants  of  a  kind,  or  class. 
This  is  the  method  of  every  science.  AVe  begin  with  par- 
ticular individuals  and  proceed  to  general  terms  and  uni- 
versal principles.  Only  by  the  aid  of  Conception,  then, 
can  we  attain  to  scientific  knowledge  of  any  subject. 

(2)  Linguistic  Study. — Language  is  made  up  largely  of 
general  terms.  All  common  nouns  are  such  class-names. 
^'^  Plant,"  ^^  animal,^'  ^''triangle,"  etc.,  are  examples.  All 
such  adjectives  as  ''^red,^^  ^'^round,^'  ^'^vital,''^  etc.,  are 
names  of  qualities  which,  when  abstracted  by  the  mind 
from  their  concrete  combinations,  are  designated  by  abstract 
nouns,  such  as  ^^  redness/^  '^'^  roundness,"  '''' vitality,"  etc. 
All  study  of  language  is  practice  in  conceiving  such  classes, 
such  qualities  and  such  abstractions.  This  study  is,  then, 
especially  adapted  to  cultivate  the  conceptual  powers.  It 
calls  forth  the  comparative  habit.  The  effort  to  grasp 
the  meaning  of  a  new  word  involves  the  exercise  of  all  the 
powers  of  Conception.  Only  ^'^  word-dividing  man,"  in 
Homer's  phrase,  is  capable  of  thinking.  The  ready-made 
concepts  of  those  who  have  formed  a  language  are  con- 
veyed to  the  mind  through  the  attentive  study  of  it. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  learning  of  a  highly  complex  and 
elaborate  language,  like  the  Latin  or  the  Greek,  has  been 
held  to  be  conducive  to  a  development  of  the  concei^tual 
powers  and  the  best  preparation  for  scientific  pursuits. 

(3)  The  Order  of  Studies. — In  the  relations  already 
pointed  out,  we  find  a  criterion  for  the  order  of  studies. 
There  are  in  the  growth  of  the  mind  three  essential 
processes  :  {a)  apjpreliensioyi  of  facts,  {!))  analysis  of 
facts,  and  (c)  synthesis  of  relations.  In  Botany,  for  ex- 
ample, plants  must  be  seen,  their  parts  separated  and 
their  common  characteristics  united  under  general  terms. 


150  PSYGHOLOGY. 

Sncli  concepts  as  ^^ nutrition/"  ''^ growth,^'  ^^ reproduc- 
tion/^ etc.,  are  reached  by  this  method.  But  the  second 
and  third  jirocesses  are  dependent  upon  language.  We 
have  ah'eady  seen  that  language  is  an  instrument  of 
analysis  (p.  82).  The  whole  of  the  present  section  has 
shown  how  it  is  an  instrument  of  synthesis.  The  method 
is  always  the  same.  Hence  we  infer  that  the  earliest 
studies  should  be  presentative  and  linguistic  at  the  same 
time.  After  a  sufficient  number  of  facts  has  been  accu- 
mulated and  language  has  trained  the  mind  in  the  use  of 
conceptual  power  and  furnished  the  instrument  for  it,  the 
more  abstract  studies  should  follow,  such  as  Physical 
Science  (as  organized  knowledge),  the  Lower  Mathe- 
matics, Grammar,  Ehetoric,  Logic,  the  Higher  Mathe- 
matics, Psychology,  etc.  Physical  Geography  is  much 
more  abstract  than  Descri|)tive  Geography,  Algebra  than 
Arithmetic,  and  Grammar  than  Literature.  Written 
Arithmetic  and  Algebra  are  much  less  abstract  than 
Grammar,  as  most  students  find,  for  in  these  mathe- 
matical studies  there  is  always  a  concrete  symbol  before 
the  eye,  which  is  treated  according  to  a  fixed  rule,  while 
in  Grammar  the  classification  embraced  in  the  ^'^  parts  of 
speech ''  is  really  based  on  the  structure  of  thought  itself. 

This  subject  is  of  such  practical  interest  to  the  teacher  that  it 
seems  desirable  to  treat  it  more  fully.  Alexander  Bain,  in  his 
"  Education  as  a  Science,"  has  offered  some  very  valuable  sug- 
gestions on  the  method  of  developing  abstract  ideas  in  the  mind 
of  a  learner.  For  the  benefit  of  those  to  whom  the  book  may  be 
inaccessible,  the  following  epitome  is  attempted.  (1)  The  selection 
of  particulars  sJiould  he  such  as  to  shoiv  all  extreme  varieties.  Iden- 
tical instances  are  not  to  be  accumulated.  They  merely  burden  the 
mind,  while  A^arying  instances  show  the  quality  under  every  combi- 
nation.    To  bring  home  the  abstract  property  of  ' '  roundness,"  or 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  151 

the  circle,  we  must  present  concrete  examples  in  varying  size,  color, 
material,  situation  and  circumstances.  We  cannot  exhibit  a  circle 
in  the  abstract,  and  we  cannot  present  a  real  one  without  size ;  but 
we  can  reduce  the  material  to  a  thin  black  line  on  a  white  ground. 
Two  or  three  such,  of  different  sizes,  with  one  made  of  white  on  black 
ground  and  one  in  some  other  color  would  eliminate  everything  but 
the  single  property  of  form.  This  comes  as  near  to  abstracting  the 
property  as  the  case  allows.  (2)  The  instances  cited  should  briiig 
out  the  agreements.  If  the  objects  are  material,  they  should  be  simi- 
larly and  symmetrically  situated  to  the  eye.  The  comparison  of 
numbers,  as  three,  four,  five,  should  be  in  rows  side  by  side,  to  begin 
with.  (3)  The  accumulation  should  he  continuoiis,  until  the  effect  is 
produced.  We  should  put  everything  else  aside  for  the  time.  An 
overwhelming  concentration  at  one  point  is  needed.  Any  instance 
that  is  perplexing  in  itself  will  prove  distracting.  Examples  that 
are  very  interesting  from  other  points  of  view  produce  the  same  dis- 
tracting effect.  Contrast  is  useful.  To  create  in  the  mind  the 
abstract  idea  of  a  circle,  we  may  place  it  beside  an  oval.  (4)  A  sud' 
den  flash  of  agreemeiit  hetween  things  in  many  respects  different,  is 
what  is  aimed  at.  When  among  things  that  have  formerly  been 
regarded  as  different,  there  is  a  sudden  flash  of  agreement,  the  minj 
is  arrested  and  pleased ;  and  the  discovery  makes  one  great  element 
of  intellectual  interest,  imparting  a  positive  charm.  (5)  Aid  can  he 
derived  from  the  tracing  of  cause  and  effect.  The  notion  of  cause 
and  effect,  the  crowning  notion  of  science,  is  one  of  the  first  to  dawn 
upon  the  infant  mind.  The  simplest  movements  are  attended  with 
discernible  consequences:  the  fall  of  a  chair  with  noise;  the  taking 
of  food  with  gratification.  These  instances  are  the  beginnings  of 
the  knowledge  of  causes  ;  and  they  are  viewed  correctly  from  the 
first.  Now  when  any  agent  produces  an  apparent  change  or  effect, 
it  operates  by  only  one  of  the  many  properties  that  it  possesses  as  a 
concrete  object.  A  chair  has  form  to  the  eye,  resistance  to  the  hand, 
noise  to  the  ear ;  and  as  these  effects  are  seen  in  their  separate  work- 
mgs,  they  lead  on  to  analysis  or  abstraction  of  the  properties  causing 
them.  (6)  The  numher  of  instances  7iecessary  varies  ivith  the  char- 
acter of  the  things.  Very  few  are  needed  for  a  simple  form — for 
weight,  liquidity,  transparency.  For  a  metal,  a  plant,  a  tree,  a 
bird,  an  article  of  food,  a  force,  a  society — a  good  many  are  wanted. 
(7)  The  name  and  the  defi^iition  shoidd  he  given  along  with  the  general 


152  PSTCHOLOGY. 

notion,  when  it  is  formed.  The  definition  assigns  some  simpler  no- 
tions, supposed  to  be  already  possessed.  The  fact  that  inability  to 
form  abstract  ideas  is  the  principal  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of 
all  learners,  warrants  particular  pains  and  indefatigable  industry  on 
the  part  of  the  teacher  in  giving  intelligent  aid  at  this  point. ^ 

In  this  section,  on  Conception,  we  have  considered  : 

1,  Use  of  the  word  **  Conception*'^ 

2,  The  Process  of  Conccjytion, 

3,  The  Completed  Concept, 

4,  The  Reality  of  Concepts, 

5,  Realism, 

6,  Nominalisfn, 

7,  Concepttialism, 

8,  Relationism, 

9,  Perfect  and  Imperfect  Concepts, 

10,  The  Hypostasizlng  of  Abstract  Ideas. 

11.  Relation  of  Conception  to  Education, 

References  :  (1)  F.  Max  Miiller's  Science  of  Thought,  Chapter 
IV.  (2)  Galton's  Inquiry  into  Human  Faculty,  pp.  183,  184.  (3) 
Id.,  pp.  109,  110.  (4)  Abbot's  Scientific  Theism,  p.  1  et  seq.,  and 
Mind,  Oct.,  1882,  p.  461  et  seq.  (5)  Id.  (6)  Bain's  Education  as  a 
Science,  pp.  193,  197. 


SECTION  11. 

JUDGMENT. 


1.  Definition  of  Judgment. 

Judgment  Is  the  process  of  asserting  agreement  op  dif- 
ference between  ideas.  It  is  essentially  the  relating  activ- 
ity of  Intellect.  It  implies  the  pre-existence  of  elements 
of  knowledge  between  which  relations  of  agreement  or 
disagreement  can  be  discovered.     For  example,  to  judge 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  153 

that  two  colors  are,  or  are  not,  the  same,  it  is  necessary 
that  each  shoukl  be  separately  apprehended.  The  expres- 
sion of  an  act  of  judgment  in  language  is  a  proposition. 

Nothing  but  a  proposition,  expressed  or  implied,  can  embody 
truth.  Things,  states  and  qualities  can  be  apprehended  as  real,  but 
we  cannot  say  a  "house"  is  true,  or  a  "sensation"  is  true,  or  a 
"  color  "  is  true.  Truth  is  the  correspondence  of  consciousness  with 
reality.  When  we  assert  an  agreement  or  a  disagreement  to  exist 
and  it  actually  does  exist,  our  judgment  is  true  and  what  we  assert 
is  true.  Truth  can  nevqr  be  attained  and  error  can  never  be  elimi- 
nated, except  by  acts  of  Judgment.  We  do,  however,  apprehend 
reality  by  direct  intuition,  or  immediate  knowledge.  At  least  two 
realities  must  be  apprehended  before  a  judgment  can  be  formed. 
That  our  apprehensions  of  reality,  apart  from  all  acts  of  Judgment, 
are  very  rudimentary,  is  evident  from  the  place  which  interpretation 
has  in  the  sphere  of  Sense-perception. 

2.  Relation  of  Judgment  to  Other  Processes. 

Judgment  is  involved  in  nearly  all  the  forms  of  knowl- 
edge which  we  have  thus  far  examined.  Although  we 
must  separate  the  various  psychical  acts  for  purposes  of 
analytical  study,  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  they  are 
intimately  blended  in  the  actual  processes  of  knowledge. 
Thus,  Judgment  is  employed  in  Sense-perception,  and  all 
our  acquired  perceptions  are  products  of  Judgment  exer- 
cised upon  our  original  perceptions.  Every  act  of  recog- 
nition is  an  act  of  Judgment,  in  which  the  represented 
idea  is  asserted  to  be  the  representative  of  something  we 
have  previously  known.  In  acts  of  Imagination,  the  fit- 
ness of  means  to  ends  is  constantly  asserted.  In  Concep- 
tion, the  acts  of  comparing,  generalizing,  and  denominat- 
ing are  exercises  of  Judgment.  As  we  shall  soon  see,  every 
process  of  Eeasoning  is  a  series  of  dependent  Judgments. 


154  PSYCHOLOGY. 


3.  The  Elements  of  a  Judgment. 

Every  judgment  has  three  essential  elements.    They  are  : 

(1)  the  Subject,  or  that  of  which  something  is  asserted ; 

(2)  the  Predicate,  or  that  which  is  asserted  of  the  Sub- 
ject ;  and  (3)  the  Copula,  or  that  which  asserts  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  the  Subject  and  Predicate. 

Sometimes  the  three  elements  are  expressed  in  three 
separate  words  ;  as,  Man  (subject)  ^"^^ ^(copula)  mortal  (pred- 
icate). Frequently  the  subject  is  expressed  in  one  word 
and  the  copula  and  predicate  are  united  in  one  ;  as,  3Ian 
(subject)  dies  (copula  and  predicate  united).  The  copula 
simply  expresses  agreement  or  disagreement,  according  as 
it  is  affirmative  or  negative,  but  does  not  necessarily  in- 
volve actual  existence.  The  verb  ^^to  be/^  in  its  various 
forms,  sometimes  expresses  the  mere  relation  between  the 
subject  and  2:)redicate,  and  sometimes  involves  also  the 
predicate  of  existence,  or  actual  being. 

4.  Classification  of  Judgments. 

Judgments  are  of  various  kinds  and  may  be  classified 
differently,  according  to  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
employed  or  regarded.  The  most  important  distinctions 
are  expressed  in  the  following  classes  : 

(1)  As  to  origin,  judgments  are  (ci)  analytical,  when  the 
predicate  simply  unfolds  what  is  already  contained  in  the 
subject,  without  adding  anything  new  ;  as,  ''^  All  triangles 
have  three  sides'^;  and  {T))  synthetic,  when  we  assert  of 
the  subject  something  not  already  implied  in  it  and  thus 
increase  our  knowledge;  as,  "All  the  planets  attract  other 
material  bodies  according  to  their  mass.^' 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  155 

Analytical  judgments  are  sometimes  called  "explicative,"  and 
synthetical  judgments,  "  ampliative."  An  analytical  judgment  is 
not  necessarily  tautologous,  that  is,  the  predicate  does  not  simply 
repeat  the  subject.  It  unfolds  the  content  of  the  subject  and  sets  it 
in  a  new  light.     It  explains  what  the  subject  really  means. 

(2)  As  to  certainty,  judgments  are  [a)  problematical, 
when  founded  on  mere  opinion,  the  assertion  being  neither 
subjectively  nor  objectively  known  to  be  true  ;  {h)  assert- 
ive, when  founded  on  personal  helief,  as  when  a  subjective 
conviction  is  offered  without  verification  ;  and  (c)  demon- 
strative, when  founded  on  constitutive pr indoles  or  verified 
2)roof,  as  the  axioms  and  demonstrations  of  mathematics. 

Opinion  is  a  view  of  a  subject  that  may  be  entertained  without 
evidence,  being  based  merely  on  pre-conceptions.  It  presents  a*  prob- 
lem to  be  investigated,  but  is  not  itself  conclusive,  even  for  the  one 
who  entertains  it.  Belief  is  based  on  some  evidence,  but  it  may  vary 
greatly  in  amount,  according  to  the  intellectual  habits  of  each  person. 
The  evidence  that  induces  belief  in  one  may  not  induce  it  in  another. 
There  are  degrees  of  belief.  In  the  sphere  of  probability,  belief 
must  take  the  place  of  knowledge.  In  all  the  practical  affairs  of  life 
it  is  sufficient  for  action,  and  the  wise  man  does  not  wait  to  know,  but 
acts  on  his  beliefs.  In  the  sacred  relations  of  husband  and  wife, 
parent  and  child,  lender  and  borrower,  buyer  and  seller,  teacher  and 
pupil,  belief  must  satisfy.  These  relations  are  sacred  for  the  reason 
that  demonstration  is  impossible.  Here  enters  the  principle  of 
"honor,"  which  consists  in  a  recognition  of  the  sacredness  of  these 
personal  relations.  Demonstration  rests  upon  the  certainty  of  knowl- 
edge and  the  processes  of  knowledge,  and  admits  the  element  of  verifi- 
cation. It  is  excluded  from  all  those  spheres  where  trust  in  the 
veracity  of  a  person  is  involved,  and  these  are  the  ones  in  which  our 
affections,  our  business  prosperity,  and  our  religious  hopes  are  in- 
cluded. 

(3)  As  to  form,  judgments  are  {a)  categorical,  when  the 
assertion  is  unqualified  by  any  condition  ;  as,  *^  Man  is 


i56  PSYCHOLOGY. 

mortal  ^':  and  {h)  conditional,  when  the  assertion  is  quali- 
fied by  a  condition ;  as,  "If  this  is  a  man,  he  is  mortal/' 
Conditional  judgments  are  further  divided  into  liypothet- 
ical,  disjunctive,  and  dilemmatic,  which  are  explained  in 
Logic. 

(4)  As  to  quantity,  judgments  are  («)  universal,  when 
the  predicate  is  affirmed  universally  of  the  subject ;  as, 
"All  clouds  are  vaporous ^^;  and  {h)  particular,  when  the 
predicate  is  asserted  of  only  a  part  of  the  subject ;  as, 
"  Some  men  are  vicious/^ 

(5)  As  to  quality,  judgments  are  {a)  affirmative,  when 
they  affirm  a  relation  to  exist  between  subject  and  predi- 
cate ;  as,  "  Men  are  rational  beings " ;  and  (h)  negative, 
when  a  relation  is  denied  between  subject  and  predicate ; 
as,  ^^Men  are  not  omniscient/' 

(6)  As  to  inclusion,  judgments  are  {a)  extensive,  when 
an  attribute  taken  as  a  subject  is  asserted  to  exist  in  ob- 
jects taken  as  predicates  ;  as,  "  The  Whites  are  English, 
French,  Germans,  etc/' ;  and  (/;)  comprehensive,  when 
anything  taken  as  a  subject  is  asserted  to  possess  an  attri- 
bute taken  as  a  predicate  ;  as,  ^' All  Europeans  are  white/' 

,  5.  The  Categ-ories  of  Judgmeiit. 

,  It  is  evident  that  the  possible  modes  of  assertion  are 
limited  by  the  nature  of  the  things  about  which  we  make 
assertions.  Let  us  take  an  example.  I  see  a  tree  in  a 
garden.     I  may  assert  of  it : 

(1)  Being,  or  existence.  It  has  («)  Quantity,  that  is, 
it  is  more  or  less  than  other  trees.  It  has  {h)  Quality, 
that  is,  it  is  of  some  hind,  as  a  maple.  It  has  {c)  Mode, 
that  is,  it  is  solid,   not  liquid    or  gaseous.     It  has   {d) 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  157 

Numler,  that  is,  it  is  one  of  many  trees.  It  has  (e)  Rela- 
tio7i,  that  is,  its  parts  are  specially  disposed.  I  may  assert 
of  it  also  : 

(2)  Cause,  or  active  power.  It  has  {a)  Efficiency,  that 
is,  productive  power.  It  has  {b)  Finality,  that  is,  adapta- 
tion to  an  end,  or  purpose.     I  may  farther  assert  of  it  : 

(3)  Space,  or  co-extension.  It  has  {ct)  Position,  (b) 
Direction,  (c)  Distance,  (d)  Surface  and  [e)  Magnitude. 
Finally,  I  may  assert  of  it  : 

(4)  Time,  or  continuance.  It  has  {ci)  Succession  in  the 
production  of  its  parts  and  {b)  Duration  as  a  whole. 

These  predicates  have  been  called  the  Categories  (from 
the  Greek  KarTjyopECj,  Tcategoreo,  to  predicate  or  assert),  or 
general  kinds  of  assertion  that  may  be  made  with  respect 
to  anything.  The  power  to  know  these  highest  predicates, 
which  are  structural  elements  in  the  nature  of  things  and 
in  the  composition  of  thought,  is  called  Reason.  Eational 
Judgment  is  the  process  of  asserting  agreements  and  dis- 
agreements under  these  categories,  or  forms  of  knowing. 

The  doctrine  of  the  categories  is  very  ancient.  Those  of  the 
Greek  philosoplier,  Pythagoras  (586-506,  b.c),  are  the  earliest  known. 
Aristotle  subsequently  stated  them  as  follows  :  (1)  substance,  (2) 
quantity,  (3)  quality,  (4)  relation,  (5)  place,  (6)  time,  (7)  situation,  (8) 
possession,  (9)  action,  and  (10)  suffering.^  This  statement  of  the 
categories  was  afterwards  modified  by  various  philosophers.  The 
Stoics  reduced  them  to  four  :  (1)  substance,  (2)  quality,  (3)  manner 
and  (4)  relation.  Piotinus  attempted  a  new  system,  but  Aristotle's 
statement  was  generally  received  until  the  time  of  Bacon.  In 
modern  times  Kant's  doctrine  of  the  categories  is  important.  He 
names  the  following  :  I.  Of  Quantity :  (1)  Unity,  (2)  Plurality, 
(3)  Totality.  II.  Of  Quality :  (1)  Reality,  (2)  Negation,  (3)  Limita- 
tion. III.  Of  Relatiofi :  (1)  Substance  and  Accident,  (2)  Cause  and 
Effect,  (3)  Reciprocity.  IV.  Of  3Iodality  :  (1)  Possibility,  (2)  Ex- 
istence, (3)  Necessity.     These  are  the  categories  of  the  Understand- 


158  PSYCHOLOGY. 

iiig.  Of  Sensuous  Intuition  there  are  two  others :  Time  and  Space.' 
According  to  Kant,  all  these  are  mere  forms  of  the  intelligence,  not 
structural  elements  in  actual  Being.  They  are  for  the  mind  only, 
prescribing  the  necessities  of  thought,  but  not  inherent  in  reality. 
While  no  rational  process  is  possible  without  categories,  it  would 
probably  be  presumptuous  to  suppose  that  any  classification  of  them 
is  faultless.  It  is  difficult  to  state  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  avoid 
a  repetition  of  some  element  under  the  different  names.  A  reason  for 
this  may  be  that  concrete  realities  involve  many  of  them  at  the  same 
time,  and  our  analysis  cannot  exhaust  them  without  repeating  them. 
An  explanation  of  each  of  the  categories  as  given  in  the  text  above 
is  attempted  in  the  treatment  of  Constitutive  Knowledge.  The  ref- 
erence to  them  here  is  necessary  in  order  to  show  the  bases  upon 
which  Rational  Judgment  rests. 

6.  Tlie  Kelation  of  Juclg-iiient  to  Education. 

Education  aims  to  develop  the  power  of  judging.  It 
does  not  attempt  to  supply  a  complete  stock  of  verified 
propositions.  The  educated  man  is  one  whose  power  of 
independent  Judgment  has  been  so  cultivated  that  he  can 
form  verified  propositions  for  himself  in  any  field  of  in- 
vestigation. The  uneducated  man  can  follow  an  old  rule, 
but  the  educated  man  can  discover  new  rules.  Two  im- 
portant educational  problems  arise  here  :  (1)  how  far  to 
encourage  independence  of  Judgment  in  a  learner,  and 
(2)  how  to  cultivate  the  power  of  correct  Judgment. 

(1)  Independence  of  Judgment  in  the  learner. — Abject 
deference  to  authority  and  absolute  independence  of 
authority  are  two  extremes  which  are,  perhaps,  equally 
remote  from  the  proper  spirit  of  a  learner.  Too  much 
dependence  upon  a  teacher's  ijjse  dixit  divesta  the  pupil 
of  all  real  intellectual  activity  and  renders  him  the  passive 
recipient  of  pre-arranged  ideas.  Such  a  learner  can  never 
be  much  more  than  a  parrot.     On  the  other  haJid,  too 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  159 

much  self-confidence  in  a  pupil  renders  the  correcting 
influence  of  a  superior  mind  ineffectual.  Such  a  learnei 
receives  no  training.  In  order  that  development  of  Judg- 
ment may  be  acquired,  the  power  must  be  both  exercised 
and  trained.  The  learner  must,  therefore,  be  allowed, 
and  if  backward  must  be  urged,  to  form  judgments  with- 
out aid  from  others.  He  must  also  be  required  to  submit 
his  own  judgments  to  the  revision  and  correction  of  his 
teacher.  The  relation  of  teacher  and  pupil  has  no  reason 
for  existing,  if  it  does  not  imply  the  teacher's  superiority 
in  the  special  department  in  which  instruction  is  under- 
taken, and  the  pupiFs  position  as  a  learner  requires  his 
respectful  recognition  of  this  superiority.  The  teacher's 
function,  however,  is  not  simply  to  implant  a  system  of 
truth,  but  to  develop  an  intelligence.  This  requires  that 
independence  of  judgment  should  be  encouraged  where  it 
is  necessary  as  well  as  repressed  where  it  is  too  prominent. 
To  develop  power  without  conceit,  is  the  teacher's  diffi- 
cult task. 

(2)  The  Cultivation  of  Judgment. — The  power  to  judge 
correctly  is  cultivated  by  well-directed  practice,  which 
gradually  supplies  the  mind  with  rules  of  experience, 
some  growing  out  of  the  particular  subject-matter  with 
which  we  deal,  others  of  a  more  general  character.  We 
thus  learn  what  are  the  sources  of  error  and  what  are  the 
tests  of  truth.  The  exact  sciences  are  more  favorable  for 
the  cultivation  of  Judgment  than  the  speculative  sciences  ; 
for  in  the  former  verification  is  possible,  so  that  the  learner 
can  test  his  own  judgments,  while  in  the  latter  he  cannot. 
The  sphere  of  practical  action  is  especially  favorable  for 
the  development  of  Judgment,  for  errors  are  here  rebuked 
by  consequences  which  render  the  mind  cautious  and  ac- 


160  PSYCHOLOGY. 

curate  in  its  operations.  Theory  often  fails  in  practice, 
but  intelligent  practice  seldom  fails  to  suggest  a  true 
theory.  The  laboratory  of  experimental  science  is  an 
excellent  primary  school  of  Judgment.  So  also  is  the 
workshop. 

A  writer  on  the  value  of  industrial  education,  says,  in  pointing 
out  the  influence  of  action  on  thought  :  "The  mind  and  the  hand 
are  natural  allies.  The  mind  speculates,  the  hand  tests  the  specula- 
tions of  the  mind  by  the  law  of  practical  application.  The  hand 
explodes  the  errors  of  the  mind  ;  for  it  inquires,  so  to  speak,  by  the 
act  of  doing,  whether  or  not  a  given  theorem  is  demonstrable  in  the 
form  of  a  problem.  The  hand  is,  therefore,  not  only  constantly 
searching  after  truth,  but  is  constantly  finding  it.  It  is  possible  for 
the  mind  to  indulge  in  false  logic,  to  make  the  worse  appear  the 
better  reason,  without  instant  exposure.  But  for  the  hand  to  work 
falsely  is  to  produce  a  misshapen  thing — tool  or  machine — which  in 
its  construction  gives  the  lie  to  its  maker.  Thus  the  hand  that  is 
false  to  truth,  in  the  very  act  publishes  the  verdict  of  its  own  guilt, 
exposes  itself  to  contempt  and  derision,  convicts  itself  of  unskilful- 
ness  or  of  dishonesty."  ^ 

In  this  section,  on  "Judgment,"  we  have  considered  : 

1,  Definition  of  Jadfjnient, 

2,  Relation  of  Judgment  to  Other  Processes. 

3,  The  Elements  of  Judgment, 

4,  Classification  of  Judgments, 

5,  The  Categories  of  Judgment, 

6,  The  Melation  of  Judgment  to  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Aristotle's  Categories,  IV.,  1.  (2)  Kant's  Cri- 
tique of  Pure  Reason  (Mliller's  Translation),  II.,  p.  71.  (3)  Ham's 
3Ianual  Training,  pp.  144,  145. 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  161 

SEGTION    in. 

REASONING. 
1.  Definition  of  Reasoning. 

Reasoning  is  a  process  of  inference  in  which  a  new 
judgment  is  derived  from  other  known  judgments.  It  im- 
plies the  existence  of  a  regulative  faculty,  or  Reason, 
whose  structural  principles  are  employed  in  connecting 
ideas  and  judgments.  It  is  a  discursive,  as  distinguished 
from  an  intuitive,  action  of  Intellect,  and  presupposes  not 
only  materials  of  presentative  knowledge  with  which  it 
deals,  but  also  regulative  principles  which  give  validity  to 
the  process. 

A  question  naturally  arises  as  to  the  validity  of  the  reasoning 
process.  A  conclusion,  or  result  of  reasoning,  seems  to  have  the 
character  of  a  manufactured  article,  and  we  may  well  doubt  the 
ability  of  the  mind  to  malce.  truth.  The  difficulty  is  readily  removed, 
however,  if  we  consider  that  reasoning  is  simply  the  more  explicit 
statement  of  what  is  already  involved  in  presentative  and  represent- 
ative knowledge.  If  A  is  equal  to  B,  and  B  is  equal  to  C,  then  it 
is  certain  that  A  is  equal  to  C,  although  this  is  a  new  judgment,  for 
its  truth  is  necessitated  by  the  truth  of  the  previous  judgments. 
But  this  necessity  is  owing  to  a  law  of  thought  which  is  also  a  law 
of  things,  namely,  the  Law  of  Identity.  If  there  are  no  certain  and 
necessary  laws  of  thought,  or  if  the  laws  of  thought  are  not  also 
laws  of  things,  we  have  no  warrant  for  the  process  of  reasoning 
in  any  of  its  forms,  and  no  conclusion  can  be  demonstrative.  The 
nature  of  these  foundations  we  shall  discuss  under  Constitutive 
Knowledge,  and  it  is  sufficient  here  to  exhibit  the  dependence  of  all 
reasoning  upon  constitutive  principles  and  to  illustrate  the  manner 
in  which  it  employs  them  in  giving  validity  to  inferences.  We  shall 
thus  be  prepared  for  an  examination  of  the  rational  constitution  of 
the  mind. 


162  PSYCHOLOGY. 

2.  The  Assumptions  of  all  Reasoning. 

Eeasoning  would  be  impossible  if  there  were  not  a  cor^ 
respondence  between  the  processes  of  the  soul  and  the 
external  operations  which  move  and  combine  the  real 
objects  of  knowledge.  If  we  can  arrive  at  the  real  rela- 
tions of  things  outside  of  ourselves  by  combining  our  ideas 
according  to  the  laws  of  thought,  it  is  certain  that  those 
things  are  governed  and  arranged  according  to  the  same 
laws  of  thought.  In  brief,  if  subjective  thought  can 
reach  objective  truth,  it  is  because  objective  realities  are 
regulated  by  the  same  laws  of  thought.  The  thought  of 
man,  when  correct,  is  but  the  transcript  of  thought  that 
is  not  his  own,  but  which  was  before  his,  regulates  his^ 
and  is  above  his. 

Philosophical  Skepticism  has  its  origin  in  daubt  concerning  the 
trustworthiness  of  the  reasoning  process.  One  of  its  earliest  historic 
representatives  was  Pyrrho  of  Elis  (about  360-270  B.C.),  a  Greek 
philosopher,  or  rather  doubter  of  the  possibility  of  philosophy,  from 
whose  name  philosophical  skeptics  are  sometimes  called  Pyrrhonists. 
He  asserted  that,  of  every  two  contradictory  propositions,  one  is 
not  more  true  than  the  other.  A  later  representative  of  this  school 
of  thinkers  was  Sextus  Empiricus  (about  200  a.d.),  who  claimed  to 
be  able  to  disprove  the  possibility  of  demonstration  !  The  paradox  of 
a  demonstration  that  there  can  be  no  demonstration,  is  evidently 
rational  suicide.  Subsequent  ages  have  had  representative  skeptics. 
Hume  and  his  followers  belong  to  this  school,  in  so  far  as  they  are 
consistent,  if  consistency  is  conceivable  in  one  who  rejects  the  postu- 
lates of  Reason. 

3.  Inductive  Reasoning-. 

Induction  is  the  inference  of  a  conclusion  by  generali- 
zation from  particular  facts.  The  conclusion  is  a  univer- 
sal judgment.     The  great  problem  in  the  discussion  of 


ELABORATIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  163 

inductive  reasoning  is  to  show  how  we  can  2^ass  from  the 
particular  to  the  universal.  It  is  evident  that  we  must 
assume  some  universal  principles,  or  else  we  cannot  sustain 
the  validity  of  inductive  reasoning.  These  assumptions 
we  shall  presently  state. 

' '  Two  bodies  of  unequal  weight  (say  a  guinea  and  a  feather)  are 
placed  at  the  same  height  under  the  exhau-sted  receiver  of  an  air- 
pump.  When  released,  they  are  observed  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the 
vessel  at  the  same  instant  of  time,  or,  in  other  words,  to  fall  in  equal 
times.  From  this  fact,  it  is  inferred  that  a  repetition  of  the  experi- 
ment, either  with  these  bodies  or  with  any  other  bodies,  would  be  at- 
tended with  the  same  result,  and  that,  if  it  were  not  for  the  resistance 
of  the  atmosphere  and  other  impeding  circumstances,  all  bodies, 
whatever  their  weight,  would  fall  through  equal  vertical  spaces  in 
equal  times.  Now,  that  these  two  bodies  in  this  particular  experi- 
ment fall  to  the  bottom  of  the  receiver  in  equal  times  is  merely  a  fact 
of  observation,  but  that  they  would  do  so  if  we  repeated  the  experi- 
ment, or  that  t\m  next  two  bodies  we  selected,  or  any  bodies,  or  all 
bodies,  would  do  so,  is  an  inference,  and  is  an  inference  of  that  par- 
ticular character  which  is  called  an  Inductive  Inference,  or  In- 
duction."* 

4.  Processes  Subsidiary  to  Induction. 

There  are  several  processes  connected  with  induction 
and  subsidiary  to  it.     These  are  as  follows  : 

(1)  Observation. — By  observation  we  carefully  note 
phenomena.  I  observe  that  two  bodies  fall  to  the  ground 
with  different  velocities.  I  observe  that  a  coin  is  heavier 
than  a  feather.  These  are  simple  facts  of  observation  and, 
uninterpreted,  they  have  little  significance. 
'  (2)  Experiment. — Experiment  involves  an  intentional 
combination  of  phenomena,  in  order  to  observe  them  under 
new  conditions.  I  exhaust  the  air  from  a  receiver  and 
then  drop  a  coin  and  a  feather  in  it,  in  order  to  see  what 


164  PSYCHOLOGY. 

effect  the  changed  conditions  will  have.  This  affords 
new  facts.  Science  really  begins  when  experiment,  or 
analytical  observation,  takes  the  place  of  simple  obser- 
vation. 

(3)  Hypothesis. — Hypothesis  is  a  theory,  or  suj^position, 
provisionally  employed  as  an  explanation  of  phenomena.' 
It  is  necessary  as  a  directing  idea  in  the  conduct  of  exper- 
iments. The  invention  of  hypotheses  is  one  of  the  most 
important  functions  of  Scientific  Imagination.  The  prin- 
cipal test  of  the  truth  of  an  hypothesis  is  its  adaptation  to 
explain  all  the  facts.  When  it  does  not  explain  the  facts, 
it  must  be  modified  or  abandoned. 

(4)  Verification. — This  consists  in  proving  the  truth  of 
an  hypothesis  by  applying  it  to  all  the  attainable  facts  and 
so  discovering  that  what  was  an  hypothesis  in  thought  is 
actually  a  law  of  things.  Every  process  of  verification 
assumes  certain  principles  which  we  shall  now  state. 

5.  Assumptions  of  Inductive  Inference. 

In  order  to  render  induction  valid,  two  assumptions 
must  be  made  : 

(1)  That  every  event  has  a  cause.  This  is  the  Law  of 
Universal  Causation  ;  and 

(2)  That  the  same  causes  will  always  produce  the  same 
efFects.     This  is  the  Law  of  the  Uniformity  of  Nature. 

If  I  infer  that  all  bodies  acted  on  by  gravity  alone  fall  in  equal 
times,  it  is  because  every  event  of  this  kind, — the  falling  of  a  body, — 
requires  a  cause,  gravity,  and  because  this  cause  always  acts  uni- 
formly. If  such  an  event  could  happen  without  a  cause,  or  if  the 
same  cause  did  not  always  produce  the  same  effect,  I  could  make  no 
inference  whatever.  No  induction,  then,  is  possible,  except  upon 
these  assumptions. 


ELABORATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  165 

6.  Deductive  Reasoning. 

Deduction  is  the  inference  of  a  conclusion  by  the  appli- 
cation of  a  general  truth  to  a  particular  case.  The  prin- 
ciple underlying  all  deductive  reasoning  was  laid  down  by 
Aristotle  and  is  known  as  Aristotle's  Dictum  :  ^^  Whatever 
is  predicated,  or  asserted  universally,  of  any  class  of  things, 
may  be  predicated  of  anything  comprehended  in  that 
class."  The  validity  of  this  mode  of  reasoning,  then, 
depends  upon  our  knowledge  of  general,  or  universal 
judgments.     From  the  premises 

All  wood  is  a  verjetaUe product ; 
Tills  suhstance  is  toood ; 

I  may  infer  the  conclusion. 

This  suhstcmce  is  a  vegetable  product. 

If,  however,  I  cannot  assert  that  ''All  wood  is  a  vege- 
table product,"  but  only  that  ''  Some  wood  is  a  vegetable 
product,"  I  can  infer  nothing. 

7.  Origin  of  Universal  Judgments. 

The  question.  How  are  general,  or  universal,  judgments 
obtained  ?  has  given  rise  to  much  discussion.  The  fol- 
lowing theories  have  been  held  : 

(1)  The  Inductive  Theory. — This  derives  all  general 
judgments  from  induction.  Even  such  propositions  as, 
"Every  event  has  a  cause,"  are,  according  to  this  theory, 
derived  from  induction.  This  is  the  position  of  J.  S; 
Mill.^  To  this  view  it  may  be  objected  (1)  that  no  num- 
ber of  particular  instances,  without  a  universal  element, 
would  warrant  a  general  law,  and  (2)  that  every  process  of 
induction  assumes  general  principles  to  begin  with. 


166  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2)  The  Hereditary  Theory. — This  view  regards  general 
judgments  as  derived  from  the  experience  of  past  genera- 
tions, being  transmitted  as  inherited  tendencies  to  regard 
certain  propositions  as  universal,  because  they  have  never 
been  contradicted  in  experience.  The  theory  differs  from 
the  exploded  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  in  regarding  the  ten- 
dency,  not  as  an  actual  form  of  knowledge,  but  as  an  in- 
herited disposition.  This  is  the  position  of  Herbert  Spen- 
cer.^ The  objections  to  it  are  (1)  that  it  simply  removes 
the  difficulties  a  little  farther  back,  for  the  first  induction 
could  not  have  proceeded  without  general  judgments,  and 
(2)  even  the  total  experience  of  the  human  race  does  not 
show  that  a  judgment  is  really  universal  and  necessaryo 
It  fails,  then,  to  give  a  firm  foundation  to  reasoning. 

(3)  The  Intuitive  Theory. — According  to  this  view,  cer- 
tain fundamental  principles  are  regarded  as  known  by  in- 
hdtion  (from  the  Latin  in,  in  or  on,  and  tiieri,  to  look). 
Such  principles  are  variously  called  ''  intuitions,^'  ''  pri- 
mary beliefs,"  ^'^  first  truths"  and  ^^constitutive  princi- 
ples." Unless  the  mind  begins  with  such  intuitions,  it  is 
difficult  to  comprehend  how  any  process  of  reasoning  is 
possible.  They  are  more  fully  considered  in  the  treat- 
ment of  Constitutive  Knowledge,  to  which  they  belong.* 

The  origin  of  mathematical  axioms  has  occasioned  much  con- 
troversy, and  affords  a  field  for  illustrating  the  rise  of  certain  gen- 
eral truths.  These  propositions  are  not  derived  by  induction  from 
particular  cases,  but  are  seen  at  once  to  be  true  in  any  case.  They 
do  not,  indeed,  come  into  consciousness  until  we  set  about  formulat- 
ing mathematical  proofs,  but  they  are  implied  in  all  our  mathe- 
matical thinking,  and  have  a  character  of  self -evidence  and  necessity 
which  is  known  as  soon  as  we  think  about  them.  The  same  is  true 
of  many  other  principles.  Our  best  description  of  the  way  in  which 
such  principles  are  known  is  to  say  that  they  are  known  intuitively, 


ELABORATIVE    KNOWLEDGE.  167 

or  by  direct  insight.  We  cannot  speak  of  them  as  "innate,"  for 
that  would  imply  that  they  exist  in  the  mind  at  birth  as  forms  of 
knowledge,  whereas  they  come  into  consciousness  only  in  the  course 
of  experience.  They  cannot  be  proved,  either  inductively  or  deduct- 
ively, because  there  is  nothing  more  evident  from  which  they  could 
be  proved,  and  they  must  be  assumed  in  every  possible  form  of  proof. 
It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  in  nearly  all  processes  of  de- 
ductive reasoning,  we  employ  universal  judgments  which  we  have 
derived  from  induction,  and  which  have  only  that  degree  of  probable 
truth  that  the  extent  of  our  induction  warrants. 


8.    Two  Forms  of  Expressing  Deduction. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  a  deductive  argument  may 
be  expressed.     They  are  : 

(1)  The  Explicit,  or  Syllogistic. — This  is  the  full  and 
logical  form  of  statement,  and  is  best  adapted  for  the  ready 
application  of  tlie  tests  which  are  employed  by  logicians 
to  determine  the  validity  or  invalidity  of  an  inference. 

(2)  The  Implicit,  or  Enthymematic. — This  is  an  abbre- 
viated form  of  expression,  in  which  one  of  the  judgments, 
or  premises,  is  suppressed,  {a)  because  it  is  too  evident  to 
require  expression,  or  {h)  to  avoid  attracting  attention  to 
it  and  thus  exposing  a  fallacy.  It  is  the  form  in  which 
arguments  are  usually  stated  in  connected  discourse. 

As  the  persons  who  use  this  text-book  are  presumed  to  have  studied 
Logic,  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  details  concerning  the  forms  of 
reasoning.  The  psychological  interest  terminates  when  the  processes 
of  reasoning  have  been  described  and  the  validity  of  correct  reason- 
ing is  shown.  If  the  reasoning  be  correct,  and  the  premises  are  true, 
the  conclusion  is  true.  In  the  sphere  of  merely  probable  judgments, 
the  conclusion  has  the  same  degree  of  probability  as  the  two  premises 
taken  together.  The  trustworthiness  of  all  reasoning  depends  upon 
the  relations  of  real  beings  implied  in  the  premises.  Most  fallacies 
result  from  false  premises. 


168  PSYCHOLOQT. 

9.   Systematization. 

The  highest  product  of  reasoning  is  a  System,  or  coher- 
ent  whole,  in  which  truth  is  unified.  A  j^erfect  system 
would  fulfill  the  following  requirements  : 

(1)  All  the  facts  must  be  included  ; 

(2)  All  the  facts  must  be  harmonized,  so  that  no  con- 
tradiction exists  between  them  ; 

(3)  All  the  facts  must  be  arranged  according  to  their 
natural  affinities. 

Every  science  aims  to  meet  all  these  requirements  so  far 
as  its  limited  complement  of  facts  is  concerned.  It  in- 
cludes, harmonizes,  and  arranges  the  facts,  however,  with 
growing  clearness  and  certainty,  and  this  is  what  is  meant 
by  the  "  growth  of  science."  That  all  truth  is  harmonious, 
is  believed  by  every  intelligence  that  has  faith  in  the  in- 
telligibility of  the  universe.  We  have  not  yet  arrived  at  a 
final  system  in  which  all  knowledge  is  unified.  If  such  a 
system  existed  in  the  consciousness  of  any  man,  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  any  existing  language  would  furnish  an  adequate 
expression  for  it.  With  the  progress  of  knowledge  there 
may  be  a  corresponding  improvement  in  language,  so  that 
fixed  definitions  and  divisions  may  be  universally  accepta- 
ble and  without  contradiction. 

10.   The  Relation  of  Reasoning  to  Education* 

Reasoning  marks  the  culmination  of  all  the  intellectual 
powers.  To  be  able  to  reason  correctly  at  all  times  and 
on  all  subjects,  would  imply  the  perfect  discipline  of  the 
faculties  and  the  conformity  of  the  whole  mind  to  the 
laws  of  thought.     It  constitutes,  therefore,  in  a  certain 


ELABOBATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  169 

i^ense,  the  goal  of  purely  intellectual  development.  We 
shall  consider  here  :  (1)  what  studies  furnish  most  aid  to 
the  discipline  of  Reasoning  power ;  (2)  what  conditions 
arise  from  the  use  of  language  as  an  instrument  of  Eea- 
soning  ;  and  (3)  what  limits  to  Reasoning  are  fixed  in 
the  constitution  of  the  mind. 

(1)  Disciplinary  studies. — Xo  doubt  all  close  observation 
of  the  forces  of  Nature  in  their  regular  operation  tends  to 
improve  our  power  of  reasoning,  for  we  thus  acquire  a 
facility  in  inferring  from  a  given  event  what  will  follow 
by  Nature^s  logic  of  cause  and  effect.  The  helpful  influ- 
ence of  close  observation  is  much  increased  when  we  strive 
to  detect  a  principle  in  the  facts,  a  law  in  the  phenomena. 
This  is  Induction.  Inductive  reasoning  finds  its  best  ex- 
emplification and  opportunity  in  the  sphere  of  the  experi- 
mental sciences,  such  as  Chemistry,  Physics  and  Physi- 
ology, when  pursued  as  branches  of  investigation.  They 
ought  to  be  pursued  inductively,  not  taught  as  closed  and 
finished  systems.  Deductive  reasoning,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  best  cultivated  by  the  study  of  Pure  Mathematics,  in 
which  the  processes  are  mainly  deductive  and  the  methods 
rigidly  logical.  The  union  of  the  two  is  found  in  the 
sphere  of  Applied  Mathematics,  where  the  deductive 
method  of  abstract  reasoning  is  blended  with  the  condi- 
tional forms  of  practical  calculation.  Logic,  being  the 
science  of  reasoning,  has  great  value  in  improving  our 
reasoning  powers,  but  if  we  are  to  profit  much  by  it  we 
must  apply  it  practically  until  its  principles  are  clearly 
apprehended  and  fully  illustrated.  As  one  may  repeat  all 
the  rules  of  syntax  Avithout  speaking  correctly,  so  one  may 
repeat  all  the  rules  of  the  syllogism  without  reasoning  cer- 
rectly. 


170  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2)  The  instrument  of  Reasoning. — Nearly  all  the  actual 
reasoning  of  men  is  carried  on  with  the  aid  of  language  as 
its  instrument.  Instead  of  things^  we  have  before  the 
mind  words,  or  symbols  of  things.  We  treat  these  ac- 
cording to  the  rules  of  Logic,  as  if  they  were  the  realities 
jof  thought.  The  traditional  Logic  inherited  from  Aris- 
totle deals  with  " terms ^'  and  ^'^ propositions"''  rather 
than  with  things  and  judgments.  Some  logicians,  as 
Whately,^  regard  Logic  as  wholly  conversant  about  lan- 
guage ;  and  some  philologists,  as  Max  Miiller,  ^  identify 
thought  and  language.  Words  certainly  abbreviate  and 
facilitate  mental  combinations,  and  many  of  these  would 
be  impossible  without  words.  We  can  assert  and  infer 
some  things  of  a  figure  with  a  thousand  sides ;  as,  for 
example,  that  it  is  not  a  circle  and  that  it  approaches 
nearer  to  a  circle  than  a  square,  and  yet  no  one  can  form 
a  mental  image  of  such  a  figure.  But  language  often 
seriously  affects  the  validity  of  reasoning.  Ambiguous 
words  and  abstract  words  treated  as  if  they  were  things 
are  two  fertile  sources  of  error  in  reasoning.  It  is  the 
duty  of  the  teacher  to  point  out  these  pitfalls  in  the  path 
of  reasoning  and  to  show  that  valid  thinking  depends 
upon  the  relations  of  realities,  not  upon  the  relations  of 
verbal  signs. 

(3)  The  limits  of  Reasoning. — It  is  necessary  to  make 
plain  to  the  learner  that  reasoning  is  confimed  within  cer- 
tain limits.  It  is  difficult  for  the  young  mind  that  has  not 
analyzed  its  own  powers  to  believe  that  there  is  any  truth 
that  is  not  the  result  of  reasoning,  and  it  is  characteristic 
of  such  minds  to  push  the  question,  ''Why  ?"  beyond  the 
patience  of  maturer  minds.  Children  want  a  reason  for 
everything.     Companionship  with  them  very  soon  shows 


ELABORATIYE  KNOWLEDGE.  171 

us  the  limits  of  reasoning.  When  we  come  to  analyze 
the  process  of  reasoning,  we  discover  that  it  consists 
simply  of  re-stating  what  is  already  implied  in  previous 
knowledge.  At  the  hasis  of  all  reasoning  lie  the  primary 
affirmations  and  immediate  experiences  witliont  which 
reasoning  itself  would  have  neither  validity  nor  materials. 
The  process  of  reasoning  is  merely  a  relating  activity  of 
the  mind,  harmonizing  and  unifying  various  forms  of 
knowledge, — the  materials,  so  to  speak,  with  which  it 
deals.  These  materials  are  furnished  by  our  experience 
and  by  the  constitution  of  our  nature  that  renders  experi- 
ence possible.  This  constitution  we  can  examine  and 
describe,  but  it  presents  to  us  ultimate  facts  and  jjrinci- 
ples  beyond  which  Intellect  cannot  penetrate.  Such  an 
examination  and  description  are  attempted  in  the  next 
chapter,  on  Constitutive  Knowledge. 

In  this  section,  on  "Reasoning,"  we   have  consid- 
ered: 

1,  Definition  of  Reasoning, 

2,  The  Assumptions  of  all  Reasoning, 

3,  Inductive  JReasoning, 

4,  Processes  Subsidiary  to  Induction, 

5,  Assumptions  of  Inductive  Inference, 

6,  Deductive  Reasoning, 

7,  Origin  of  Universal  Judgments, 

8,  Two  Forms  of  Ejcpressing  Deduction, 

9,  System  at izat ion, 

10,  The  Relation  of  Reasoning  to  Education. 

References  :  (1)  Fowler's  Inductive  Logic,  p.  3.  (2)  Mill's  System 
of  Logic,  Book  III.,  Chapter  lY.  (3)  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psy- 
cliology,  Part  IV.,  Chapter  VII.  (4)  Porter's  Human  Intellect, 
pp.  497,  526.  (5)  Whately's  Elements  of  Logic,  Book  II.,  Chapter 
I.,  Section  2.     (6)  Max  MiUler's  Science  of  ThougU,  I.,  p.  30. 


CHAPTER   iV. 

CONSTITUTIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

DEFINITION   AND    DIVISION    OF  CONSTITUTIVE    KNOWLEDGE. 

Constitutive  knowledge  is  the  knowledge  that  is  acquired 
by  an  examination  of  those  postulates,  op  assumed  truthSj 
which  are  involved  in  all  oup  intellectual  experience.     A 

postulate  (from  the  Latin  j^ostuldre,  to  demand)  is  a 
truth  demanded  by  the  mind  in  order  to  explain  its  exper- 
iences. It  is  not  so  much  a  product  of  experience  as  it  is 
a  pre-condition  of  experience ;  for,  though  it  is  brought 
to  our  consciousness  only  in  experience,  it  is  necessary  to 
the  possibility  of  experience.  More  explicitly,  in  order  to 
hnow,  the  knowing  subject  must  have  a  certain  constitu- 
tion that  enables  it  to  know  ;  and,  in  order  to  he  hiiown, 
the  known  object  must  have  a  certain  constitution  that 
enables  it  to  be  known.  We  now  pass  to  an  examination 
of  this  fourth  kind  of  knowledge.  In  organizing  per= 
cepts,  we  saw  (page  58)  that  our  sense-impressions  are 
referred  to  the  four  relations  of  (1)  Being,  (2)  Cause,  (3) 
Space  and  (4)  Time.  These  we  found  also  to  constitute 
the  leading  Categories  of  Judgment  (page  156).  We  have 
now  to  ask  what  we  know  about  these  categories,  or  forms 
of  predication,  underlying  all  our  other  knowledge.  We 
have  noted  successive  stages  of  intellectual  activity  appear- 
ing in  an  unfolding  order  from  simple  sensation  up  to 
reasoning,  that  is,  a  Development  of  Intellect.     This  also 


CONSTITUTIVE  1<:N0WLEDGE.  173 

requires  some  examination.     Tiiese  five  topics^  tlien^  will 
be  the  subjects  of  the  sections  in  this  Chapter. 

At  this  point  begins  the  transition  to  what  is  usually  called  On- 
tology, or  Metaphysics  (see  page  2).  It  is  the  inevitable  culmination 
of  Psychology.  It  is  also  the  dividing-point  of  the  schools  of 
philosophy.  It  is  necessary  here,  without  entering  upon  a  full  dis- 
cussion, to  explain  the  psychological  origin  of  these  schools. 

Empiricism  (from  the  Greek  E/iirsLpla,  empeiria,  experience),  re- 
gards nothing  as  true  or  '■-ertain  except  what  is  given  in  experience. 
We  can,  therefore,  know  nothing  of  the  realities,  if  any  exist,  out- 
side of,  or  beyond,  experience.  Locke  and  his  followers,  advocate 
Empiricism  and  are  called  "Empiricists"  and  their  methods  "Em- 
pirical." It  has  been  the  favorite  view  in  English  and  French 
thinking,  though  not  without  important  exceptions. 

Transcendentalism  (from  the  Latin  transcendere,  to  go  beyond, 
to  surpass)  regards  experience  as  impossible  without  certain  precon- 
ditions which  go  beyond,  or  surpass,  experience  and  render  it  possi- 
ble. In  order  to  know,  there  must  be  certain  faculties  of  knowing 
with  a  specific  nature  and  constitution.  Kant  and  his  followers  are 
representatives  of  Transcendentalism.  Kant  holds  that  there  are  in 
the  soul  certain  a  priori  principles  of  knowledge  not  derived  from 
experience,  but  necessary  to  it.  The  Scotch  philosophers  have  held, 
for  the  most  part,  a  similar  view  of  "first  principles,"  but  have 
repudiated  the  name  "Transcendentalism,"  preferring  the  less  pre- 
tentious term,  "  Common  Sense."  The  words  "  Transcendentalism  " 
and  "  Empiricism "  are  used  with  various  shades  of  meaning  diffi- 
cult to  discriminate  within  narrow  limits,  and  the  learner  will  do 
well  to  use  them  with  caution,  and  will  be  safer  not  to  use  them  at 
all.  For  the  use  of  the  word  "  Transcendentalism  "  as  applied  to 
the  views  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  and  other  American  thinkers, 
see  the  exposition  of  their  doctrines  in  Frothingham's"  Transcend- 
entalism in  America."  The  word  "  intuition  "  also  had  a  i^eculiar 
meaning  for  this  coterie  of  thinkers. 

Sensationalism  is  another  designation  frequently  applied  to  the 
doctrine  of  Empiricism,  because  those  who  have  held  the  empirical 
view  have  usually  tried  to  derive  all  knowledge  from  mere  sensation, 
as  Hume  and  Mill,  for  example,  without  admitting  the  constitution 
of  the  mind  itself  as  a  source  of  knowledge. 


174  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Rationalism  is  the  opposite  doctrine,  finding  the  ultimate  expla- 
nation of  knowledge  in  the  constitution  of  "  Reason,"  and  regarding 
sensation  as  merely  the  material  of  knowledge  for  which  Reason 
supplies  the  forms. 

In  a  broad  classification  of  systems,  we  may  form  two  autithej 
ical  groups  : 

(1)  Empiricism,  Sensationalism  and  Associationism  usually  ^o 
together  and  are  only  different  names  for  the  same  way  of  thinking. 
Knowledge  is  supposed  to  begin  in  sensation,  to  consist  of  nothing 
but  "transformed  sensation"  and  to  be  worked  up  into  its  special 
forms  by  association  of  ideas. 

(2)  Transcendentalism  and  Rationalism  are  also  different  names 
for  the  same  general  doctrine.  Both  terms  indicate  a  claim  to 
knowledge  of  something  beyond  experience.  This  may  be  expressed 
as  ^^  a  priori  knowledge,"  "  first  principles, "  "  primary  principles," 
"  primitive  beliefs,"  "first  truths,"  "intuitions,"  "  constitutive  prin- 
ciples," etc.  The  general  meaning  is  the  same.  Transcendentalists 
and  Rationalists  regard  the  soul  as  possessing  specific  faculties,  or 
powers  of  knowing,  and  so  having  a  definite  constitution. 

Without  entering  farther  into  the  discussion  of  these  differences, 
we  shall  proceed  to  the  examination  of  the  necessary  postulate**  of 
knowledge. 


SBGTIOIT    L 

BEING. 
1.  The  Reality  of  Being. 

The  reality  of  Being  is  affirmed  in  the  first  primary 
affirmation  of  the  soul,  ^'  Something  is."  It  is  the  nec- 
essary correlate  of  knowledge.  The  reality  of  Being  is 
incapable  of  proof,  for  it  is  the  condition  on  which  all 
proof  rests.  The  denial  of  it  is  also  impossible,  for  the 
affirmation  of  its  non-existence  would  have  no  rational 
foundation.     In  every  act  of  knowledge  we  have  an  intu- 


CONSTITUTIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  175 

itio)i  of  Being.  From  such  separate  experiences  we  form 
also  a  concept,  or  abstract  idea^  of  Being,  which  is  the 
most  universal  positive  notion  that  we  can  form.  From 
the  intuition  of  Being  we  formulate  three  laws  of  thought 
tvhich  constitute  the  basis  of  all  reasoning,  as  follows  : 

(1)  The  Law  of  Identity,  Whatever  is,  is  ; 

(2)  The  Law  of  Contradiction,  Nothing  can  both  be  and 
not  be ; 

(3)  The  Law  of  Excluded  Middle,  Everything  must 
either  be  or  not  be. 

These  laws   of  thought  constitute  the  foundation   of  Logic, 

which  is  the  science  of  the  laws  of  thought.  Upon  them  are  based 
the  Canons  of  the  Syllogism  and  the  Rules  of  the  Syllogism,  as 
given  by  writers  on  Logic.  They  are  fully  discussed  in  all  the  better 
works  on  this  subject,  and  a  full  explanation  may  be  found  in  "  The 
Elements  of  Logic,"  published  by  Sheldon  and  Company,  pp.  104, 
123. 

2.   Substance  and  Attribute. 

Substance  is  the  constitutive  condition  of  all  experi- 
ence, for  that  which  experiences  and  that  which  is  ex- 
perienced must  he.  Differences  which  are  known  in  con- 
sciousness and  are  attributed  to  Being,  are  attributes  of 
Being.  Whatever  is  known  is  known  under  the  relation 
of  substance  and  attribute.  Attributes  are  appt-ehended 
in  experience,  are  the  phenomenal  elements  of  it,  and  are 
necessarily  referred  to  substance  as  the  reality  of  which 
they  are  manifestations. 

"The  idea,"  says  Locke,  "to  which  we  give  the  name  of  suh- 
stance,  being  nothing  but  the  supposed  but  unknown  support  of  the 
qualities  we  find  existing,  which  we  imagine  cannot  subsist,  siiie  re 
substante,  without  something  to  support  them,  we  call  that  support 
substo/iitia;  which,  according  to  the  true  import  of  the  word,  is,  uj 


176  PSYCHOLOGY. 

plaiu  English,  standing  under  or  upholding."^  That  we  do  uni- 
versally refer  every  attribute  to  a  substance,  is  undisputed  among 
philosophers.  They  liavc,  however,  given  opposite  accounts  of  it 
and  reasons  for  it.  Locke,  Berkeley,  Hume,  and  the  two  Mills  con- 
sider the  idea  of  substance  as  a  mere  artifice  of  the  mind.  They 
hold,  then,  to  Phenomenalism,  the  doctrine  that  we  know  phenom- 
ena, or  appearances,  only.  The  connection  of  Phenomenalism  and 
Nominalism  has  been  already  pointed  out.  The  weakness  of  Phe- 
nomenalism is  precisely  that  of  Nominalism.  It  lies  in  ignoring 
outward  reality.  An  object  is  the  sum  of  all  its  qualities.  Some  of 
these  are  known,  others  are  unknown.  The  substance  of  a  thing  is 
that  reality  a  part  of  which  we  apprehend  through  its  attributes  as 
known  by  us  and  some  of  whose  qualities  may  be  unknown  to  us. 
If  we  knew  all,  substance  would  be  entirely  disclosed.  Substance 
and  attributes  are  in  reality  inseparable.  We  mentally  separate  one 
or  more  attributes  from  the  others,  which  together  with  them  con- 
stitute a  thing,  by  the  process  of  abstraction.  The  doctrine  of  Rela- 
tionism  requires  us  to  refer  every  attribute  to  the-  other  qualities 
with  which  it  is  associated  and  to  consider  them  all  as  real  in  their 
concrete  combination.  The  distinction  between  substance  and  at- 
tribute is  thus  a  simply  relative  one,  but  essential  to  the  mind's 
activity.  Kant  distinguished  between  Phenomena  (attributes  as  ap- 
pearing to  us)  and  Noumenon  (substance  not  manifested  to  our 
knowledge).  Here  is  the  great  weakness  of  his  system ;  for,  if  phe- 
nomena are  products  of  the  mind  created  by  its  inherent  forms,  as 
he  holds,  how  do  we  know  that  there  is  any  noumenon,  or  objective 
reality  ?  If  there  is  objective  reality,  why  should  all  differences  of 
quality  and  quantity  be  referred,  as  he  refers  them,  to  the  forms  of 
the  mind  ?  Relationism  affords  more  solid  ground,  affirming  that 
the  qualities  of  a  thing  exist  where  the  thing  exists,  and,  taken  in 
their  totality,  constitute  it. 


3.   Two  Kinds  of  Being. 

As  our  knowledge  of  Being  is  obtained  tlirongli  its 
attributes,  we  are  warranted  in  distinguishing  as  many 
kinds  of  Being  as  there  are  antithetical  and  inconvertible 
groups  of  attributes.     These  are  two  : 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  177 

(1)  Matter,  having  the  attributes  of  space-occupancy, 
impenetral)ility  and  sense-presentation  ;  and 

(2)  Spirit,  having  the  attributes  of  self-conscious  intel= 
ligence,  sensibility  and  volition. 

These  two  groups  of  attributes  are  both  antithetical  and 
inconvertible. 

As  examples  of  their  antithesis  take  the  following  :  Mat- 
ter is  not  known  to  possess  intelligence,  sensibility,  or 
volition.  No  chemical  synthesis  has  succeeded  in  so  com- 
bining the  elements  of  matter  as  to  endow  them  with 
these  powers.  On  the  other  hand,  spirit  is  not  known  to 
fill  any  portion  of  space,  though  it  has  location  in  a  bodily 
organism.  No  material  element  is  known  to  be  lost  when 
the  spirit  leaves  the  body.  S^jirit  is  not  known  to  be  im- 
penetrable ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  the  greater  the  number 
of  ideas  jiossessed  by  the  soul,  the  greater  the  number  it 
is  capable  of  receiving.  The  states  of  the  self-conscious 
spirit,  such  as  hopes,  joys,  fears,  desires,  concepts,  etc., 
are  not  known  as  occupying  space,  or  as  being  capable  of 
sense-presentation. 

The  Inconvertibility  of  the  two  groups  of  attributes  is 
admitted  by  all  eminent  thinkers.  The  physical  forces, 
— heat,  light,  electricity,  chemical  action,  gravity,  and 
probably  nervous  force, — are  convertible  into  one  another; 
so  that,  beginning  with  any  one,  the  others  can  be  pro= 
duced.  Thought,  feeling  and  volition  are  7iot  thus  cor- 
related with  the  physical  forces.  Not  only  has  the  ex- 
perimental production  of  any  form  of  consciousness  been 
thus  far  impossible,  but,  as  Tyndall  says  :  '^The  passage 
from  the  physics  of  the  brain  to  the  corresponding  facts 
of  consciousness  is  imtldnlcaUe. "  ^ 

By  the  tests  of  antithesis  and  inconvertibility,  there- 


178  PSYCHOLOGY. 

fore,  we  distinguish  matter  and  spirit  as  different  kinds 
of  Being. 

This  distinction  is  not  like  that  by  which  the  chemist  discrian- 
inates  between  two  elements,  such  as  oxygen  and  hydrogen.  The  dif- 
ference in  that  case  is  one  of  combining  power,  in  the  case  of  matter 
and  spirit  it  is  one  of  kind.  We  have  no  scientific  warrant  for  effac- 
ing the  distinction  marked,  as  it  is,  in  every  literature,  universal  in 
human  speech  and  fundamental  in  all  thought.  The  theorist  may, 
indeed,  go  farther  and  say  that,  in  the  unknown  reality  of  both  mind 
and  matter  there  may  be  a  unity  that  is  beyond  our  penetration. 
This  is  possible,  but  it  is  mere  hypothesis,  it  is  not  science.  We  are 
not,  therefore,  prepared  to  teach  it  as  science  when  even  the  most 
eminent  physicists  would  object  to  this  identification  of  mind  and 
matter.  In  the  present  state  of  science,  Dualistic  Realism  is,  there- 
fore, Scientific  Realism.  Monism,  in  every  form,  is  mere  hypothe- 
sis. When  mind  and  matter  can  be  identified  experimentally  by 
making  matter  conscious  in  the  laboratory,  or  even  in  conception  by 
rendering  the  attributes  of  the  one  intellectually  translatable  into 
the  attributes  of  the  other.  Monism  will  be  established,  but  not  until 
this  is  done.  It  would  then  assume  the  form  of  Idealism,  if  all  were 
resolved  into  mind;  of  Materialism,  if  all  were  resolved  into  matter. 
Agnostic  Monism  is  simply  a  learned  expression  of  the  inability  to 
effect  this  resolution  and  is  essentially  wo?i-scientific,  introducing  a 
term  of  ignorance  in  the  place  of  knowledge. 

4.   Quantity. 

Quantity  (from  tlie  Latin  quantum,  how  much)  involved 
the  distinction  of  more  or  less.  It  may  be  applied  to  any 
thing  that  admits  of  degree,  that  is,  to  any  thing  that  is 
measurable.  A  line,  a  surface,  or  a  magnitude  is  de- 
scribed as  having  quantity.  A  force  also,  like  steam- 
power,  has  quantity,  although  we  cannot  assign  it  dimen- 
sions. We  measure  it  by  a  unit  of  intensity,  not  by  a  unit 
of  magnitude.  We  have  then,  (1)  extensive  quantity,  or 
quantity  in  space,  and  (2)  intensive  quantity,  or  quantity 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  179 

in  power.  We  may  add  also  (3)  protensive  quantity,  or 
quantity  in  time  ;  as  when  we  compare  minutes  and  hours^ 
days  and  weeks. 

5.  Quality. 

Quality  (from  the  Latin  quails,  of  what  kind)  involves 
the  distinction  of  hind.  The  quality  of  a  thing  is  that 
which  constitutes  its  difference  from  things  of  other 
kinds.  Intellect,  as  discriminative  activity,  is  chiefly 
occupied  with  qualities. 

6.  Modality. 

Modality  (from  the  Latin  modus,  manner)  involves  the 
distinction  of  manner  of  existence.  Water  may  be  liquid, 
solid  or  gaseous ;  wax  may  be  liquid,  plastic  or  solid. 
These  are  modes  of  being. 

7.  Number. 

Unity  (from  the  Latin  unus,  one)  involves  the  idea  of 
oneness.  Unity  is  opposed  to  plurality  (from  the  Latin 
plus,  more).  The  world  of  things  presents  to  us  indi- 
viduals, that  is,  numerical  units,  and  yet  is  itself  one,  that 
is,  a  ivhole,  or  system  in  which  unity  underlies  the  ap- 
parent diversity  of  phenomena.  It  is  this  recognition  of 
the  one  in  the  many  that  has  given  rise  to  the  idea  of  the 
universe  (from  the  Latin  iinus,  one,  and  versum,  turning, 
implying  that  all  turns  about  one  centre,  or  is  a  unit). 

Number  involves  (1)  the  establishment  of  a  unit  and  (2)  a  process 
of  pounting.  "  Number,"  says  Bowne,  "  seems  to  adhere  so  closely 
to  the  objects  that  to  know  them  seems  to  be  the  same  as  knowing 
their  number.  Yet  this,  again,  is  only  the  old  error  which  identi- 
fies plurality  in  experience  with  experience  of  plurality.     The  very 


180  PSYCHOLOGY. 

utmost  that  could  be  allowed  would  be  that  unity  inheres  in  tlie 
object ;  the  conception  of  plurality  arises  only  as  the  mind  takes  the 
separate  units  together.  Until  this  is  done,  we  have  not  number, 
but  the  unit  repeated;  the  countable,  but  not  the  counted.  Each 
object  maybe  one;  but  no  object  is  two  or  three,  etc.  The  clock 
may  strike  one  repeatedly,  but  by  no  possibility  can  it  do  more.  Our 
ears  might  give  us  the  separate  strokes,  but  they  cannot  hear  iheir 
number.  Hence  we  pass  from  units  to  number  only  by  a  process  of 
counting,  or  of  adding  unit  to  anit.  Number  is  no  property  of 
things  in  themselves,  but  only  of  things  united  by  the  mind  in  nu- 
merical relations."^  (3)  That  counting  is  a  mental  process,  is  evident 
from  the  remark  of  the  half-intoxicated  man  who  heard  the  clock 
strike  three  and  said,  "That  clock  must  be  greatly  out  of  order,  it 
has  struck  one  three  times!'''  Unity  may  in  the  same  way  be  re- 
garded as  depending  upon  the  manner  in  which  the  mind  regards 
objects.  A  tree  is  one  tree  really  and  objectively  as  well  as  mentally, 
and  ten  trees  are  ten  trees  in  like  manner,  but  the  mind  may  con- 
template the  one  tree  as  composed  of  a  hundred  branches  or  of  ten 
thousand  twigs.  The  relations  of  number  always  belong  where  the 
things  are,  for  "number"  is  essentially  an  abstraction.  For  this 
reason  we  have  the  infinitely  small  as  well  as  the  infinitely  large. 
Taking  any  unit,  it  is  possible  to  divide  and  subdivide  it  mentally 
without  limit.  This  simply  signifies  that  the  act  of  mind  may  be 
repeated  without  end,  and  here  lies  the  solution  of  many  logical 
puzzles.  If  one  mental  process  gets  the  start  of  another,  as  in  the 
famous  case  of  Achilles  and  the  tortoise,  the  belated  one  can  never 
overtake  the  other  without  violating  the  conditions,  but  in  reality 
Achilles  leaps  over  the  tortoise  in  the  first  few  steps. 

8.  Relation. 

Relation  (from  the  Latin  re,  back,  and  latum,  bear- 
ing) involves  a  reference  of  one  thing  to  another.  This 
reference  is  based  on  a  real  connection  or  disposition  of 
things  as  they  are  apprehended  by  us.  Identity  is  same- 
ness of  substance.  Eolations  of  equality  exist  when  things 
are  equal  in  quantity.  Eelations  of  resemblance  indicate 
a  liheness  between  qualities  of  things.     Relations  of  co- 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  181 

existence  and  relations  of  succession  are  also  noted  in  out 
apprehension  of  things.  Relations  are  not  tilings  and  yet 
they  are  real.  They  are  the  connections  which  unite  in- 
dividual things  into  higher  unities.  It  is  through  thenio 
as  we  have  seen^  that  reasoning  is  rendered  valid. 

The  relativity  of  all  human  knowledge  is  affirmed  by  Hamilton 
and  many  other  thinkers.  He  says,  "In  enouncing  relativity  as  a 
condition  of  the  thinkable,  in  other  words,  that  thought  is  only  of 
the  relative,  this  is  tantamount  to  saying  that  we  think  one  thing 
only  as  we  think  two  things  mutually  and  at  once ;  which  again  is 
equivalent  to  a  declaration  that  the  Absolute  (the  non-Relative)  is 
for  us  incogitable  and  even  incognizable."''  "In  this, "he  says,  "all 
philosophers  are  at  one."  It  is  true  that  the  process  of  knowledge  is 
a  process  of  relating,  and  that  nothing  can  be  known  that  is  out  of 
all  relation  to  every  thing  else,  including  the  knowing  subject.  But 
it  is  a  mistake  to  identify  the  Absolute  with  the  non-Relative.  Such 
an  Absolute  has  never  been  thought  about  by  any  one,  for  the  reason 
that  it  is  impossible  to  think  about  it.  But  the  real  Absolute  is  that 
which  is  not  in  a  relation  of  dependence.  The  Absolute  is  the  self- 
gufficient,  the  self-subsisting,  not  the  "non-Relative."  Hamilton 
and  his  follower,  Henry  L.  Mansel  (1820-1871),  who  fell  into  Hamil- 
ton's error  in  his  "  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned  "  and  "  Limits  of 
Religious  Thought,"  in  identifying  the  Absolute  with  the  non-Rela- 
tive, create  difficulties  which  have  puzzled  many  minds  and  enlight- 
ened none.  There  is  no  real  opposition  between  the  relative  and  the 
Absolute.  In  thinking  of  Creator  and  created  at  the  same  time,  we 
bring  the  two  into  relation,  a  relation  of  causality  on  the  part  of  the 
Creator  and  of  dependence  on  the  part  of  the  created.  Thus  the  rel 
ative  and  the  Absolute  are  related  in  thought  and  may  be  in  reality. 
Herbert  Spencer  is  in  this  direction  a  follower  of  Hamilton  to  a  cei  ■ 
tain  extent,  but  has  thus  demonstrated  the  existence  of  the  Absolute, 
although  he  holds  that  we  cannot  know  its  nature:  "  Observe  in  the 
first  place,  that  every  one  of  the  arguments  by  which  the  relativity 
of  our  knowledge  is  demonstrated,  distinctly  postulates  the  positive 
existence  of  something  beyond  the  relative.  To  say  that  we  cannot 
know  the  Absolute,  is,  by  implication,  to  affirm  that  there  is  an  Ab- 
solute.    In  the  very  denial  of  our  power  to  learn  what  the  Absolute 


182  PSYCBOLOOY. 

is,  there  lie:  hidden  the  assumption  that  it  is ;  and  the  making  of 
this  assumption  proves  that  the  Absolute  has  been  present  to  the 
mind,  not  as  a  nothing,  but  as  a  something.  Similarly  with  every 
step  in  the  reasoning  by  which  this  doctrine  (the  relativity  of  knowl- 
edge) is  upheld.  The  noumenon,  everywhere  named  as  the  antithesis 
of  the  phenomenon,  is  throughout  necessarily  thought  of  as  an  actu- 
ality. ...  If  the  non-Relative  or  Absolute  is  preseit  in  thought 
only  as  a  mere  negation,  then  the  relation  between  it  and  the  rela- 
tive becomes  unthinkable,  because  one  of  the  terms  of  the  relation  is 
absent  from  consciousness.  And  if  this  relation  is  unthinkable, 
then  is  the  relative  itself  unthinkable,  for  want  of  antithesis: 
whence  results  the  disappearance  of  all  thought  whatever."' 

9.  Infinity. 

Infinity  (from  the  Latin  in,  not,  imd  finis,  end  or  limit) 
involves  the  aZ'se?^ce  of  limit.  "TJie  Infinite''  has  been 
represented  by  Hamilton  and  others  as  a '^negative  no- 
tion," and  so  it  is,  the  same  as  "The  Quantity''  would 
be  if  there  were  no  positive  content.  But,  starting  with 
an  intuition  of  Being,  ive  have  a  positive  content.  Do  we 
reach  a  ^'^ negative  notion"  when  we  think  away  all  limits, 
or  do  we  retain  our  positive  object  of  intuition.  Being, 
now  thought  of  as  Infinite  ?  Certainly  we  have  not 
destroyed  the  content  of  Being  in  thinking  away  the 
limits.  We  cannot,  indeed,  comprehend,  or  know  as  a 
whole.  Infinite  Being ;  for  a  whole  implies  quantity,  and 
no  quantity  can  be  infinite,  for  quantity  involves  the 
distinction  of  more  or  less.  We  may,  however,  say  that 
wo  apprehend  Infinite  Being,  that  is,  we  apprehend  Being 
without  the  ability  to  fix  any  limits  whatever.  Being 
transcends  our  power  of  representation  as  soon  as  we  drop 
the  limits  that  bound  its  finite  forms,  but  not  our  power 
of  conception.  We  can  conceive  of  Being  as  possessing 
qualities^  irrespective  of  quantity ;  but  we  cannot  repre* 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  183 

sent  sucli  Being,  for  the  very  aot  of  representation  is  a 
limitation.  If,  having  thu  cehceived  l^eing,  we  stoj) 
short  of  representation,  whaft  have  we  ?     Infinite  Being. 

Herbert  Spencer  has  expressed  his  view  upon  this  point  as  fol- 
lows: ''Our  notion  of  the  hmited  is  composed,  first  of  a  conscious- 
ness of  some  kind  of  Being,  and  secondly  of  a  consciousness  of  the 
limits  under  which  it  is  known.  In  the  antithetical  notion  of  the 
unlimited,  the  consciousness  of  limits  is  abolished;  hut  not  the  con- 
sciousness of  some  kind  of  Being.  It  is  quite  true  that  in  the  ab- 
sence of  conceived  limits,  this  consciousness  ceases  to  be  a  concept 
properly  so  eaUed ;  but  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  it  remains  as  a 
mode  of  consciousness.  If,  in  these  cases,  the  negative  contra- 
dictory were,  as  alleged  (by  Hamilton),  'nothing  else'  than  the 
negation  of  the  other,  and  therefore  a  mere  nonentity,  then  it  would 
clearly  follow  that  negative  contradictories  could  be  used  inter- 
changeably; the  unlimited  might  be  thought  of  as  antithetical  to 
the  divisible;  and  the  indivisible  as  antithetical  to  the  limited. 
While  the  fact  that  they  cannot  be  so  used,  proves  that  in  con- 
sciousness the  unlimited  and  the  indivisible  are  qualitatively  dis- 
tinct, and  therefore  positive  and  real;  since  distinction  cannot  exist 
between  nothings.  The  error  (very  naturally  fallen  into  by  philoso- 
phers intent  on  demonstrating  the  limits  and  conditions  of  con- 
sciousness) consists  in  assuming  that  consciousness  contains  nothing 
but  limits  and  conditions  ;  to  the  entire  neglect  of  that  which  is 
limited  and  conditioned."  ^ 

An  American  philosophical  writer,  George  S.  Fullerton  (1859- 
),  in  his  work  on  "The  Conception  of  the  Infinite,''  has  shown 
that  the  idea  of  the  Infinite  is  not  quantitative  but  qualitative.  He 
thinks  it  possible  to  form  a  true  concept  of  the  Infinite.  "  The  Infi- 
nite," however,  is  something  very  abstract  and,  without  positive  con- 
tents, is  not  very  significant  for  thought,  even  if  the  concept  can  be 
formed.  Unless  this  concept  of  "  The  Infinite  "  is  filled  with  real  con- 
tents, it  seems  to  have  only  a  speculative  value.  If,  however,  the  view 
presented  in  the  text  above  be  correct,  and  the  validity  of  a  concept 
of  "Infinite  Being"  is  also  accepted,  the  doctrine  of  Relationism 
(pages  145,  146)  would  admit  an  Infinite  Being  into  our  practical  as 
well  as  our  theoretical  interests.  Calderwood's  ' '  Philosophy  of  the 
Infinite  "  may  be  recommended  as  an  able  treatment  of  the  subject. 


184  PSYCHOLOGY, 

In  this  section,  on  "Being,"  we  have  considered:- 

1»  Hie  Reality  of  Being, 

2,  Substance  and  Attribute, 

3.  Tzvo  Kinds  of  Being :  {!)  flatter  and  {2)  Spiv*iU 

4,  Quantity, 

5,  Quality, 

6.  Modality* 

7.  Number, 

8,  Belation, 

9.  Infinity. 

Refericnces  :  (1)  Locke's  Essay  Concerning  Hitmam  Understand 
ing^  Book  II.,  Chapter  XXIII.  (2)  Tyndall's  Fragments  of  Science, 
p.  121.  (3)  Bowne's  Introduction  to  Psychological  Theory,  pp.  153, 
154.  (4)  Hamilton's  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  p.  689.  (5)  Spencer's 
First  Principles,  pp.  88,  91.     (6)  Id.,  p.  90. 


SEOTIOH  U. 

CAUSE. 

1,  Various  Senses  of  the  Word  **  Cause.'* 

The  general  idea  of  a  "  Causa  "  is  that  without  which 
an  event  called  the  '*^ Effect^''  cannot  be.  Aristotle  distin- 
guished four  kinds  of  causes  :  (1)  Efficient  Cause,  the 
agency  by  which  a  change  is  produced  ;  (2)  Final  Cause, 
the  directing  idea,  or  end  for  which  an  act  is  performed ; 
(3)  Material  Cause,  the  substance  of  which  any  thing  is 
made  and  without  whicli  it  could  not  be ;  and  (4)  Formal 
Cause,  the  plan  that  is  embodied  in  what  is  done.  We 
may  simplify  our  discussion  of  the  subject  by  confining 
ourselves  to  efficient  and  final  causes  ;  for  material  cause 
is  some  kind  of  substance,  and  formal  cause  is  a  resruit  oi 
final  cause  as  a  directing  idea. 


CONSTITUTIVE   KNOWLEDGE,  185 

3.  Opinions  on  the  Nature  of  Efficient  Cause. 

Various  opinions  have  been  lieltl  concerning  tlie  nature 
of  efficient  Cause^  and  it  is  important  that  these  should 
be  stated. 

(1)  Resolution  of  Cause  into  Antecedent  and  Conse- 
quent.— According  to  Hume,  and  he  is  followed  by  the 
Associational  School  generally,  our  idea  of  Cause  is  noth- 
ing but  a  connection  established  in  the  mind  by  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas, — antecedents  in  time  being  taken  as 
causes,  and  consequents  in  time  being  regarded  as  effects. 
In  this  view,  phenomena  are  considered  as  having  no  nec- 
essary tendency  to  produce  one  another  and  every  thing 
beyond  mere  phenomena  is  denied.  If  this  doctrine  were 
true,  day  ought  to  be  regarded  as  the  cause  of  night  and 
each  preceding  letter  in  the  alphabet  as  the  cause  of  the 
following  one. 

Hume  states  his  doctrine  thus :  "When  one  particular  species  of 
events  has  always,  in  all  instances,  been  conjoined  with  another,  we 
make  no  scruple  of  foretelling  one  upon  the  appearance  of  the  other 
and  of  employing  that  reasoning  which  can  alone  assure  us  of  any 
matter  of  fact  or  existence.  We  then  call  the  one  object  Cause,  the 
other  Effect."  He  then  goes  on  to  point  out  that  a  number  of  in- 
stances differ  from  a  single  instance  in  nothing  but  the  power  to 
create  a  habit  of  thought  in  us,  so  that  we  come  to  think  of  things 
conjoined  in  time  as  sustaining  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect,  "  a 
conclusion,"  he  admits,  "which  is  somewhat  extraordinary,  but 
which  seems  founded  on  sufficient  evidence."^ 

J.  S.  Mill  attempts  to  improve  the  doctrine  of  Hume  as  follows  : 
"  Invariable  sequence  .  .  .  is  not  synonymous  with  causation,  unless 
the  sequence,  besides  being  invariable,  is  unconditional."  ^  He  de- 
fines "unconditional  "  as  "subject  to  no  other  than  negative  condi- 
tions," and  explains  that  "negative  conditions  .  .  .  may  all  bo 
summed  up  under  one  head,  namely,  the  absence  of  preventmg  oi 


186  PSYCHOLOGY. 

counteracting  causes,"  '  Mill  seems  to  be  unable  to  state  the  case 
without  involving  the  unexplained  idea  of  "cause." 

(2)  Resolution  of  Cause  into  Subjective  Experience. — A 

French  philosopher,  Maine  de  Biran  (17G6-1824),  ad- 
vanced the  doctrine  that,  as  active  agents,  we  have  an 
immediate  knowledge  of  efficient  cause  in  our  own  con- 
scious acts,  from  which  we  infer  that  all  events  have  effi- 
cient causes.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  we  consciously 
cause  certain  acts,  but  this  alone  does  not  warrant  us  in 
concluding  that  all  external  j)henomena  are  produced  in 
like  manner.  Such  an  inference  would  be  an  act  of  in- 
duction, and  no  process  of  induction  is  valid  unless  the 
Law  of  Universal  Causation  is  assumed  (see  page  164). 
The  reasoning,  then,  is  in  a  circle. 

While  the  doctrine  of  De  Biran  does  not  explain  our  knowledge 
of  causation,  it  serves  to  refute  the  position  of  Hume,  for  it  gives 
us  knowledge  of  causes  in  actual  experience.  This,  of  course,  Hume 
ienies,  but  he  also  denies  many  other  facts  well  attested  by  the  com- 
mon consciousness  and  capable  of  being  tested  by  any  individual 
consciousness.  Each  one  must  determine  for  himself  whether  or  not 
he  is  consciously  causative  in  the  sense  intended. 

(3)  Resolution  of  Cause  into  a  Relation  of  Concepts. — 
Kant  and  other  German  philosophers  have  resolved  Cause 
into  a  mere  form  of  thought  imposed  by  the  mind  itself, 
and  not  existent  as  a  relation  between  things.  It  thus 
becomes  merely  a  necessary  relation  of  concepts.  We 
must  think  of  causes,  although  they  may  not  really  exist. 
Here  Kant^s  characteristic  reference  of  Being  to  the  forms 
of  Knowing,  instead  of  regarding  Knowing  as  a  correlate 
of  Being  and  dependent  upon  it,  is  again  manifested,  as 
it  is  also  in  his  treatment  of  Time  and  Space.     WhocTer 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  187 

has  accepted  the  doctrine  of  Relationism  (pages  145,  146) 
will  have  no  difficulty  in  seeing  that  the  relation  of  causo 
and  effect  must  exist  where  things  exist. 

Kant  says  ;  "In  order  that  this  (the  relation  of  phenomena)  may 
be  known  as  determined,  it  is  necessary  to  conceive  the  relation  be- 
tween the  two  states  in  such  a  way  that  it  should  be  determined 
thereby  with  necessity,  which  of  the  two  should  be  taken  as  coming 
first,  and  which  as  second,  and  not  conversely.  Such  a  concept,  in- 
volving a  necessity  of  synthetical  unity,  can  be  a  pure  concept  of 
the  Understanding  only,  which  is  not  supplied  by  experience,  and 
this  is,  in  this  case,  the  concept  of  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect, 
the  former  determining  the  latter  in  time  as  the  consequence,  not  as 
something  that  by  imagination  might  as  well  be  antecedent,  or  not 
to  be  perceived  at  all."  * 

(4)  Resolution  of  Cause  into  an  Impotenoy  of  Mind.— 
Hamilton  advances  a  singular  explanation  of  the  idea  of 
Cause.  He  holds  that^,  having  once  thought  of  Being,  it 
is  impossible  to  think  of  it  as  not  e"xisting.  It  must  be 
thought  of  as  existing  in  time.  We  cannot,  therefore, 
think  of  it  as  not  existing  in  any  period  of  j^ast  time  or 
any  period  of  future  time.  Thus  we  have  a  certain  com- 
plement of  Being  that  could  not  have  originated  from 
nothing  and  cannot  be  annihilated  in  thought.  The  phe- 
nomena presented  in  this  complement  of  Being  at  any 
time  can,  therefore,  be  thought  of  only  as  modifications 
of  the  phenomena  of  past  time.  The  present  phenomena 
we  call  "  effects  "*  and  the  past  phenomena  ''  causes.^'  Our 
idea  of  Cause  thus  results  from  our  innbility  to  think  of 
Being  as  non-existent.  The  idea  of  Cause,  however,  is 
essentially  that  of  efficiency,  or  productive  power,  in  Being. 
It  is  Being  in  action.  Being  might  exist  without  becom- 
ing the   cause   of    anything.      Hamilton's   exposition   is 


188  PSYCHOLOGY. 

simply  a  very  awkward  way  of  saying  that  we  cannot 
think  of  something  as  derived  from  nothings  which  is 
better  expressed  in  the  words^  ''Every  event  has  a  cause/' 

Hamilton  says  :  "When  we  are  aware  of  something  which  begins 
to  be,  we  are  by  the  necessity  of  our  intelligence  constrained  to  be- 
lieve that  it  has  a  cause.  But  what  does  the  expression,  '  that  it  has 
a  cause,'  signify  ?  If  we  analyze  our  thought,  we  shall  find  that  it 
rimply  means  that  as  we  cannot  conceive  any  new  existence  to  com- 
mence, therefore,  all  that  now  is  seen  to  arise  under  a  new  appear- 
ance had  previously  an  existence  under  a  prior  form."  "  Ux  nihilo 
nihil,  in  nihilum  nil  posse  reverti, — 'Nothing  can  arise  from  noth- 
ing, nothing  can  return  to  nothing,'  " — expresses  in  its  purest  form 
the  whole  intellectual  phenomenon  of  causality.^ 

(5)  Resolution  of  the  idea  of  Cause  into  an  Intuition. — 

The  Scotch  philosophers  generally  since  Reid  have  consid- 
ered the  idea  of  Cause  as  an  intuition.  It  is  intuitively 
known  that  every  event  must  have  a  cause,  that  is,  some- 
thing has  efficiently,  produced  it.  Of  conditions,  some 
are  passive.  These  may  he  called  '*  occasions."  Others 
are  active,  and  these  may  be  called  "  causes."  If  a  run- 
away horse  kills  a  child  in  the  street,  the  child's  being  in 
the  way  is  the  occasion  and  the  blow  from  the  horse  is  the 
cause  of  its  death.  All  we  can  say  is,  that  we  know  intu- 
itively that  every  event  must  have  a  cause,  and  all  our 
experience  exemplifies  this  truth.  The  knowledge  of  cau- 
sality does  not,  however,  arise  before  but  in  experience. 

It  will  not  do  to  say  that  causation  is  simply  a  form  of  intelli- 
gence and  not  also  a  law  of  things.  So  far  as  we  have  knowledge  of 
things,  the  law  applies  to  them.  We  assume  it  in  our  earliest  as  well 
as  in  our  latest  mental  activities,  and  expect  to  find  a  cause  even  for 
those  events  which  seem  inexplicable.  Causality  seems  to  be  a 
structural  law  of  both  mind  and  matter.  It  is  like  a  law  of  thought, 
perfectly  obvious  and  undeniable  the  moment  it  is  stated.    It  is  not 


CONSTUUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  189 

necessary  to  know  liow  we  can  know  a  universal  law,  in  order  to  be 
sure  of  it.  The  conviction  lies  deeper  than  all  the  processes  of 
knowledge.  Those  who  have  sought  to  weaken  confidence  in  the 
reality  of  causation  have  themselves  always  assumed  it.  The  case 
ijs  excellently  stated  by  Bowne  :  "Ail  the  manifold  '  explanations' 
which  Sensationalism  has  vouchsafed  to  a  long-suffering  world  con- 
sist in  showing  how  antecedent  mental  states  must  determine  new 
mental  states,  according  to  the  laws  of  association ;  and  as  for  sen- 
scions,  most  Sensationalists  have  had  no  hesitation  in  referring  them 
to  external  causes  without  scruple,  or  even  suspicion  of  the  incon- 
eistency.  Concerning  any  conception  of  our  mature  life,  we  are 
warned  against  taking  it  as  an  original  mental  fact.  We  are  told 
how  it  came  about  as  a  deposit  of  experience,  either  in  us  or  in  our 
ancestors.  If  a  suggestion  of  freedom  is  made,  it  is  frowned  upon 
forthwith  as  one  of  the  most  unscientific  ideas  possible,  if  not  a 
trace  of  an  antiquated  superstition.  But  if  Sensationalism  be  ad- 
mitted, all  this  is  hopelessly  inconsistent.  No  idea  is,  or  is  as  it  is, 
kcause  any  other  idea  was;  rather  some  ideas  were  and  some  other 

ideas  are If  anything  is  or  occurs,  we  must  not  ask  why; 

for  there  is  no  why  !  Thus  all  the  explanations  of  Sensationalism 
disappear,  and  by  sheer  excess  the  doctrine  cancels  itself."^ 


3.  Final  Cause. 

Final  Cause  (causa  jinalis)  is  thus  explained  by  Aris- 
totle :  '^Another  sort  of  cause  is  the  ejid,  that  is  to  say, 
that  on  account  of  which  the  action  is  done  ;  for  examj^Ie, 
in  this  sense,  health  is  the  cause  of  taking  exercise.  Why 
does  such  a  one  take  exercise  ?  We  say  it  is  i7i  order  to 
have  good  health  ;  and,  in  speaking  thus,  we  mean  to 
name  the  cause."  It  is  the  final  cause  that  is  inquired 
after  in  the  question,  ivliat  for  ?  Efficient  causes  are  re- 
garded as  determining  present  effects  from  the  2)ast ;  that 
is,  my  previous  strength  is  the  efficient  cause  of  my  taking 
exercise,  without  which  I  could  not  take  it.  Final  causes 
are  regarded  as  determining  present  effects  through  rela- 


190  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tion  to  the  future,  that  is,  I  would  not  take  tha  exercise, 
if  it  were  not  for  tlie  health  I  hoj^e  to  gain  by  it.  Aa 
Kant  has  expressed  it,  final  cause  involves  '^the  predeter- 
mination of  the  parts  by  the  idea  of  the  whole/' 

4.  The  Principle  of  Final  Cause. 

The  maxim,  '' Every  ieiiig  has  mi  end"  was  stated  by 
the  French  philosopher,  T.  S.  Jouffroy  (1796-1842),  as  a 
constitutive  principle,  co-ordinate  with  the  principle  of 
Causality.  It  seems  better  to  regard  it  as  a  special  case 
under  that  principle.  Adaptations  are  among  the  com- 
mon phenomena  of  experience.  They  surround  us  on 
every  side.  They  are  effects,  and  must  be  referred  tc 
adequate  causes  for  their  explanation.  They  are  simply  ?~ 
special  class  of  effects.  They  differ  from  other  effects  in 
implying  that  in  the  production  of  one  object,  as  for  ex- 
ample the  human  eye,  there  was  a  combination  of  efficient 
causes  with  reference  to  something  other  than  itself,  as  for 
example  light,  so  that  vision  is  the  result  of  the  adapta- 
tion. This  combination  is  what  needs  to  be  explained, 
and  requires  a  cause  capable  of  foreseeing  and  providing 
for  the  end  to  be  attained. 

It  is  said  by  some  philosophers  that  final  cause,  or  intelligent  pur- 
pose, does  not  exist,  except  in  man's  own  activities  and  in  his  own 
thought  of  external  things.  Tliis  tendency  to  think  of  general  ac- 
tion as  implying  an  end,  or  purpose,  as  personal  action  does,  has 
received  the  name  of  Anthropomorphism  (from  the  Greek  dvdpoTTog, 
anthropos,  man,  and  fjiop^ii,  morphe,  form),  implying  that  this  is 
only  a  fashion  of  human  thinking,  without  objective  validity. 
Those  who  have  repudiated  teleology  (from  the  Greek  TE'Xo^;,  telos, 
end,  and  ^oyog,  logos),  and  have  attempted  to  reduce  everything  to 
mechanism,  have  never  been  able  to  avoid  involving  the  idea  of  final 
cause  even  in  their  statements  of  their  owii  doctriije.    Ernst  Haeck^l 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  19i 

1834-  ),  the  German  naturalist,  says:  "Inheritance  is  the  cen- 
tripetal  or  internal  formative  tendency  which  strives  to  keep  the 
organic  form  in  its  species,  to  form  the  descendants  like  the  parents 
and  always  to  ijroduce  identical  things  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion. Adaptation,  on  the  other  hand,  w^hich  counteracts  Inher= 
itance,  is  the  centrifugal  or  external  formative  tendency,  which  con- 
stantly strives  to  change  the  organic  forms  through  the  influence  of 
the  varying  agencies  of  the  outer  world,  to  create  new  forms  out  of 
those  existing,  and  entirely  to  destroy  the  constancy  or  permanency 
of  species.'"''  Here  are  '^formative  tendencies''^  ^^ striving''''  to  realize 
different  ends  and  actually  succeeding  !  And  yet  Haeckel  says, 
"We  concede  exclusive  dominion  to  that  view  of  the  universe  which 
we  may  designate  as  the  mechanical  and  which  is  opposed  to  the 
teleological  conception."^  Is  it  possible  that  a  "formative  ten' 
dency"  "striving"  "to  keep"  and  "to  form,"  "to  change,"  and 
"to  create"  should  be  mechanical  and  not  teleological  ?  Take  also 
Herbert  Spencer's  definition  of  "life."  He  says  :  "Life  is  defina- 
ble as  the  continuous  adjustment  of  internal  relations  to  external 
relations."®  Such  an  "  adjustments^  embodies  the  teleological  prin- 
ciple, the  use  of  means  for  the  accomplishment  of  ends.  A  machine 
never  adjusts  itself.  It  is  itself  an  adjustment  of  forces  related  as 
means  to  ends.  And  yet  Spencer  rejects  all  teleology  and  even  the 
presence  of  a  "formative  power"  such  as  Haeckel  describes.^''  No 
naturalist  has  ever  yet  been  able  to  state  the  facts  and  conditions  of 
organic  life  and  development  ivithout  involving  the  teleological  idea, 
however  stoutly  he  may  deny  the  reality  of  a  final  cause. 


5.  Distinctions  of  Teleological  Terms, 

There  are  certain  terms  whose  equivalents  are  to  be 
found  in  all  developed  languages^  that  need  to  be  ex- 
plained, in  order  to  enable  us  to  apply  the  principle  of 
final  cause.     These  are  as  follows  : 

(1)  Chance. — Affirming  that  an  event  has  come  by 
*'  chance  "  is  not  a  denial  that  it  has  an  efficient  cause. 
Chance  is  the  combination  of  several  systems  of  causes 
w^hich  are  developed  each  in  its  own  series  independently 


192  PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  the  others.  Thus,  two  meu  start  out  of  their  houses  to 
go  about  their  affairs,  each  without  reference  to  the  other. 
If  they  meet,  they  meet  by  chance,  because  two  discon- 
nected systems  of  forces  bring  them  together.  If  a  person 
sends  for  them  both  at  the  same  time,  with  the  intention 
that  they  shall  meet,  they  meet  by  his  design. 

The  French  philosopher,  Paul  Janet  (1823-  ),  in  his  admirable 
work  on  "Final  Causes,"  says:  " It  sometimes  occurs — often,  even 
— that  two  series  of  plienomena  happen  together,  yet  without  our 
being  able  to  say  that  they  have  any  action  upon  each  other;  and  it 
is  even  a  pleasure  to  our  mind  to  find  out  what  will  happen  in  this 
case.  For  instance,  if,  in  the  game  of  rouge-et-noir  I  bet  that  the 
black  will  win,  and  it  wins  accordingly,  it  is  clear  that  my  desire 
and  my  word  could  not  have  had  any  influence  on  the  winning  of 
one  color  or  the  other,  and  likewise  that  the  arrangement  of  the 
cards,  which  I  did  not  know,  could  not  have  had  any  influence  on 
the  choice  I  have  made.  In  this  case  two  series  of  facts,  absolutely 
independent  of  each  other,  have  happened  to  coincide  with  each 
other,  and  to  harmonize,  without  any  mutual  influence.  This  kind 
of  coincidence  is  what  is  called  chance ;  and  it  is  upon  the  very 
uncertainty  of  this  coincidence  that  the  pleasure,  and  at  the  same 
time,  the  terrible  temptation,  of  games  of  hazard  rests."  ^^  It  is 
evident,  then,  that  chance  is  not  an  entity,  not  a  cause,  but  simply 
a  relation  between  two  series  of  causes  and  effects  acting  inde- 
pendently. The  explanation  of  anything,  therefore,  is  not  to  be 
found  in  chance,  but  in  the  series  of  causes  whose  results  happen  to 
be  combined. 

(2)  Adaptation. — A  fitness  of  one  thing  for  another  is 
called  "'adaptation."  It  may  be  a  chance  adaptation, 
that  is,  result  Avithout  design,  but  where  the  points  of  fit= 
ness  are  numerous  the  probability  of  chance  is  eliminated 
and  we  are  forced  to  look  for  design.  Other  adaptations 
are  known  to  be  designed.  Design  is  a  true  cause,  that 
is,  it  is  a  superintending  and  directing  power. 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  193 

Janet  gives  the  following  beautiful  illustration  of  adaptation  be- 
tween the  conditions  of  life  in  the  egg  of  a  bii'd  and  tlie  external 
conditions  to  which  it  is  adapted:  "  On  the  outside  there  is  a  phys- 
ical agent  called  light;  within,  there  is  fabricated  an  optical  machine 
atlapted  to  light:  outside,  there  is  an  agent  called  sound;  inside,  an 
acoustic  machine  adapted  to  sound  :  outside,  vegetables  and  ani- 
mals ;  inside,  stills  and  alembics  adapted  to  the  assimilation  of  these 
substances:  outside,  a  medium,  solid,  liquid  or  gaseous;  inside,  a 
thousand  means  of  locomotion,  adapted  to  the  air,  the  earth  or  the 
water.  Thus,  on  the  one  hand,  there  are  the  final  phenomena  called 
sight,  hearing,  nutrition,  flying,  walking,  swimming,  etc. ;  on  the 
other,  the  eyes,  the  ears,  the  stomach,  the  wings,  the  fins,  the  motive 
members  of  every  sort.  We  see  clearly  in  these  examples  the  two 
terms  of  the  relation, — on  the  one  hand,  a  system ;  on  the  other,  the 
final  phenomena  in  which  it  ends.  Were  there  only  system  and 
combination,  as  in  crystals,  still,  as  we  have  seen,  there  must  have 
been  a  special  cause  to  explain  that  syslein  and  that  combination." 
"  The  external  physical  world  and  the  internal  laboratory  of  the  liv- 
ing being  are  separated  from  each  other  by  impenetrable  veils,  and 
yet  they  are  united  to  each  other  by  an  incredible  pre-established 
harmony. "  ^^ 

(3)  Order. — A  regular  succession  or  arrangement  ol 
events  or  objects  involves  what  is  called  ^^  order."  A 
fixed  and  unchanging  order  needs  to  be  accounted  for  as 
well  as  a  new  and  unfolding  order,  but  it  does  not  attract 
our  attention  so  powerfully.  The  established  order  does 
not  seem  so  wonderful  as  a  departure  from  it,  but  it  is 
really  more  so,  because  it  is  more  perfect.  Order  cannot 
be  produced  by  chance,  for  the  conditions  of  chance  neces- 
sitate the  absence  of  order  and  a  series  of  chances  which 
would  i:>roduce  disorder.  The  only  explanation  of  order 
is  design. 

' '  The  invisible  agreement  of  phenomena  must  be  explained  like 
each  visible  phenomenon  taken  separately ;  this  co-ordination  is  an 
effect  which  must  have  its  cause.     For  example,   the  geometrical 


194  PSYCHOLOGY. 

forms  which  minerals  take  in  crystallizing  may  not,  indeed,  reveal 
any  final  cause ;  but  no  one  will  venture  to  say  that  this  geometri»3 
arrangement  is  an  indifferent  fact  of  which  it  is  useless  to  seek  the 
cause,  and  that  it  is  by  chance  and  by  a  simple  coincidence  that  the 
molecules  of  such  a  mineral  always  happen  to  arrange  themselves 
under  the  form  of  a  hexahedron,  of  a  dodecahedron,  for  that  which 
happens  in  a  constant  manner  cannot  be  the  effect  of  a  mere  acci- 
dent." i^ 

(4)  Correlation. — When  the  j^arts  of  a  whole  are  related 
to  one  another  as  ends  and  means,  they  are  said  not  onlj 
to  be  adapted  and  to  constitute  an  order,  hut  they  are  cor- 
related. Kant  says,  "  The  organized  being  is  the  being 
in  Avhich  all  is  reciprocally  end  and  means. ^^  Thus,  the 
human  body  as  an  organism  is  a  correlated  whole  in  which 
each  organ  is  at  once  an  end  and  a  means.  Here  adapta 
tions  multiply  and  become  exceedingly  complex,  so  as  to 
exclude  chance  as  an  explanation  and  necessitate  the 
hypothesis  of  design. 

When  treating  of  Imagination,  it  was  stated  that  no  one  had 
imagined  a  new  animal.  The  reason  is  found  in  the  nature  of  an 
organism,  or  correlated  interdependence  of  organs.  The  great  nat- 
uralist Cuvier  said:  "In  order  that  the  claws  may  be  able  to  seize, 
a  certain  mobility  in  the  toes  will  be  necessary,  a  certain  strength  in 
the  nails,  whence  there  will  result  determinate  forms  in  all  the 
}>halanges  and  necessary  distributions  of  muscles  and  of  tendons. 
It  will  be  necessary  that  the  fore-arm  have  a  certain  ease  in  turning, 
whence,  again,  will  result  determinate  forms  to  the  bones  which 
compose  it.  But  the  bones  of  the  fore-arm,  being  articulated  on 
the  humerus,  cannot  change  their  forms  without  involving  changes 
in  the  latter.  .  .  .  The  play  of  all  these  parts  will  require  certain 
proportions  in  all  their  muscles  and  the  impressions  of  these  muscles, 
thus  proportioned,  will  again  determine  more  particularly  the  form 
of  the  bones."  '*  While  the  comparative  anatomist  may  be  able  from 
a  single  bone  to  reconstruct  in  fancy  the  whole  animal  to  which  it  be- 
longed, with  this  datum  to  work  upon,  no  one  has  possessed  the  power 


CONSTITUTIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  195 

to  create  mentally  an  entire  animal  organism  that  would  fulfill  all 
the  complicated  conditions  of  organic  life. 

(5)  Convergence. — There  are  cases  where  the  adapta- 
tions converge  upon  a  single  point,  marking  it  as  the  end 
toward  which  all  the  efficient  causes  have  worked.  Thus, 
all  the  parts  of  so  highly  complicated  a  structure  as  the  eye 
are  means  to  the  one  ideal  end  of  sight.  Here  the  past 
has  been  determined  by  an  end  that  has  relation  to  the 
future.  The  idea  seems  to  have  existed  somewhere  before 
the  organ,  and  the  organ  has  been  adapted  to  its  function 
by  the  converging  action  of  many  efficient  causes. 

If  we  fix  our  attention  upon  any  definite  combination  of  matter  in 
the  structure  of  the  eye,  it  is  evident  that  it  was  put  there  by  effi- 
cient causes.  Final  cause  does  not,  then,  exclude  efficient  causes  01 
render  them  unnecessary.  But  the  special  problem  i)^  to  explain  the 
combination,  internal  and  external,  to  be  found  in  the  eye.  Whac 
has  combined  and  directed  these  efficient  causes  in  the  formation  of 
an  eye  ?  If  we  say  it  is  the  reaction  of  light  upon  sensitive  iierve- 
substance,  we  simply  push  \,^k  the  problem,  but  it  remains  a  prob- 
lem still.  What  directing  power  combined  the  sensitive  elements  in 
the  nerve-substance  and  endowed  them  with  sensibility  ?  What 
power  adapted  the  light  to  the  rudimentary  possibility  of  an  eye,  so 
as  to  effect  its  development  ?  By  pushing  back  the  problem  we  only 
broaden  and  deepen  it.  It  shows  us  more  and  more  clearly  the 
range  and  extent  of  adaptations  throughout  the  entire  universe. 
Even  the  German  philosopher,  Eduard  von  Hartmann  (1842-  ), 
who  has  denied  all  conscious7iess  of  plan  and  purpose  in  the  uni- 
verse, outside  of  finite  creatures,  admits  an  unconscious  teleology, 
an  inherent  final  cause  in  every  form  of  being,  and  even  makes  it 
the  basis  of  his  "  Philosophy  of  the  Unconscious." 

6.   Conditions  Implied  in  Final  Cause, 

Final  cause  implies  as  its  necessary  conditions :  (1)  Fore- 
knowledge of  tb')  end  before  the  causes  are  combiri^d  for 


X96  PSYCnOLOQY. 

its  realization  ;  (2)  Determination  to  realize  the  end ;  (3) 
Supremacy  over  the  efficient  causes  by  which  alone  the 
end  can  be  realized. 

To  this  doctrine  of  final  causes  there  is  but  one  scientific 
objection.  It  is,  that  final  causes  are  anthropornorj^hic. 
Efiicient  causes,  it  is  said,  are  necessary  to  account  for  all 
phenomena ;  but  final  causes  exist  only  in  the  mind  of 
man.  But  are  efficient  causes,  as  known  or  knowable  by 
the  mind  of  man,  any  less  anthropomorphic  ?  In  truth, 
no  explanation  can  satisfy  the  mind  of  man  but  one  that 
is  anthropomorphic,  for  that  alone  can  be  an  explanation 
to  him  which  resolves  phenomena  into  terms  of  his  own 
i".ature  and  experience,  and  what  is  this  but  anthrop;  ■ 
morphism  ?  When  Haeckel  and  others  speak  reproach 
fully  of  final  causes  because  they  are  anthropomorphic, 
they  should  remember  that  efficient  causes,  as  known  ana 
reasoned  about  by  man,  are  not  less  anthropomorphic.  Ir 
order  to  reason  correctly,  must  man  abnegate  the  very 
rational  nature  by  which  alone  he  is  able  to  reason  at  all  ? 
The  reason  why  mechanical  forces  alone  do  not  explain 
the  universe  to  man  is  precisely  this  :  tliey  are  not  an- 
thropomorjjliic  enough  to  account  for  man. 

If  man  is  to  have  any  explanation  of  his  existence, 
which  his  rational  nature  has  always  demanded  and  still 
demands,  he  must  find  it  either  by  explaining  the  uni- 
verse in  terms  of  personality,  or  by  explaining  liis  own 
personality  in  impersonal  terms.  And  let  us  remember 
here  that  evolution  is  not  unfavorable  to  a  personal  ex- 
planation, because  evolution  is  only  a  formal  and  not  a 
causal  theory.  It  tells  hoiv,  but  not  ^vhy.  It  gives  the 
process,  but  not  the  cause.  In  seeking  the  cause  we  may 
fairly  fix  upon  the  highest  product  of  evolution  and  do- 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  197 

mand  for  this  an  adequate  explanation.  And,  again,  as 
there  is  advance  from  low  to  high  modes  of  being  in  the 
line  of  evolution,  it  is  fair  to  regard  the  permanent  cause 
as  transcending  the  lowest  form  of  being,  or  else  the  cause 
would  not  be  adequate  to  the  production  of  the  highest. 
The  cause  may  be  for  a  time  unmanifested  in  the  effect, 
but  it  must  exist  latently  or  it  could  not  be  adequate  for 
the  highest  and  final  effect.  Evolution,  therefore,  in- 
volves the  existence  of  a  transcendent  cause,  to  render  the 
progress  possible.  Otherwise,  the  cause  would  be  ex- 
hausted in  the  first  effect  and  further  development  would 
not  follow.  The  highest  mode  of  being  directly  known 
to  us  is  pe7'S07iaUti/, — rational,  self-determining  intelli- 
gence. If  there  be  a  higher,  and  this  is  possible,  it  must 
still  be  conceived  by  us  under  this  form.  Nothing  less 
than  personality  can  explain  personality.  Nothing  can 
be  an  explanation  to  me  that  is  not  in  terms  of  my  own 
nature.  What  I  know  directly  in  consciousness  is  thought, 
feeling  and  volition.  To  translate  these  into  anything 
else  is  to  substitute  new  thought  for  old,  but  it  is  thought 
still,  or  it  is  nothing  intelligible.  To  say  that  thought  is 
the  result  of  matter  or  of  force,  is  to  say  nothing,  until 
the  nature  of  matter  or  force  is  made  plain  to  me,  and 
then  it  has  been  translated  into  thought  again.  When 
matter  and  force  have  been  explained  to  me,  I  find  the 
explanation  in  the  hnoiuledge  finally  given.  Abstract  the 
knowledge,  and  we  spoil  the  explanation.  Thought,  then, 
is  ultimate.  Matter  and  force  are  but  phases  of  thought, 
so  far  as  they  mean  anything  to  me.  They  must  be 
thought  hy  me  before  they  are  an  explanation,  but  when 
they  are  my  thought  the  explanation  is  found  in  the 
thought  about  them,  they  do  not  explain  the  thought. 


198  PSYCHOLOOT. 

I  am  a  force  working  for  rational  ends.     I  require,  there- 
fore, to  account  for  myself,  a  rational  cause. 

7.   The  Ultimate  Cause. 

All  phenomena,  being  events,  are  caused.  All  the  facts 
of  human  experience, — the  birth  and  development  of  every 
living  being  and  the  formation  of  the  earth  and  the  other 
planets, — are  iihenomena  that  have  appeared  in  an  or- 
dered succession  of  events.  If  nothing  exists  but  phe- 
nomena, we  must  allow  thought  to  follow  back  the  series 
of  events  and  causes  without  limit,  that  is,  to  infinity, 
without  ever  coming  upon  ix  first  cause.  If,  however,  we 
admit  the  existence  of  Absolute  Being,  we  arrive  at  last  at 
an  Ultimate  Cause ;  which,  not  being  an  event,  but  Self- 
sufficient  Being,  is  not  the  result  of  any  cause.  This  is, 
undoubtedly,  a  necessity  of  human  thought.  The  mind 
rests  at  last  upon  the  Self-existent,  the  Absolute  and 
Ultimate. 

An  American  thinker,  J.  Lewis  Diman  (1831-1881),  has  very  forci- 
bly expressed  this  necessity  of  thought  as  follows :  ' '  Accepting  this 
principle,  which  no  one  will  deny,  that  for  every  event  there  must 
be  a  cause,  the  question  next  arises,  How  far  does  it  legitimately 
carry  us  ?  The  notion  that  the  principle  of  causality  can  only  be 
abstractly  applied,  has  led  some  to  argue  that  it  can  only  result  in 
an  eternal  succession  of  causes  and  effects.  We  have,  then,  to  ask 
the  question.  What  can  be  evolved  from  the  idea  of  cause  as  it  exists 
in  our  own  minds  ?  Does  this  idea  demand  finality,  or  is  it  satisfied 
with  an  endless  series  ?  In  other  words,  does  the  same  necessity  of 
thought,  which  requires  us  to  believe  in  cause  at  all,  require  us 
equally  to  believe  in  a  first  cause  ?  The  objector  may  urge,  '  I  hold 
to  causation,  but  why  must  I  believe  in  a  first  cause  ?  What  greater 
difficulties  are  there  in  an  infinite  succession  of  causes  than  in  an 
original  and  self-existent  cause  ?  Both  are  absolutely  incompre- 
hensible ;   both  raise  difficulties  which  I  cannot  solve.    But  why 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  199 

compel  me  to  choose  one  of  these  dilemmas  rather  than  the  other?' 
The  objection,  at  first  sight,  seems  plausible,  but  loses  its  force 
when  we  reflect  that  an  infinite  series  does  not  make  a  cause,  and 
a  cause  is  precisely  what  reason  here  demands.  Tlie  real  alteimative 
does  not  lie  hettveen  an  infinite  series  and  a  first  cause,  but  hetiveen 
uccepting  a  first  cause,  or  rejecting  the  idea  of  cause  altogether."  '* 

In  this  section,  on  "  Cause,"  we  have  considered  :— 

1,  Various  Senses  of  the  Word  ^^  Cause.'' 

2,  Opinions  on  the  Nature  of  Efficient  Cause. 

3,  Final  Cause, 

4,  The  Principle  of  Final  Cause, 

5,  Distinctions  of  Teleological  Terms, 

6,  Conditions  Implied  in  Filial  Cause, 

7,  The  Ultimate  Cause, 

References  :  (1)  Hume's  Works,  pp.  87,  89.  (2)  Mill's  System 
of  Logic,  p.  245.  (3)  Id.,  p.  241.  (4)  Kant's  Critique  of  Pure 
Reason  (Miiller's  Translation),  Vol.  I.,  p.  4?2.  (5)  Hamilton's 
Metaphysics,  p.  689.  (6)  Bowne's  Introduction  to  Psychological 
Hieory,  pp.  169,  170.  (7)  Haeckel's  History  of  Creation  (Lan- 
kester's  Translation),  Vol.  I.,  p.  253.  (8)  Id.,  p.  17.  (9)  Spencer's 
First  Principles,   p.   84.     (10)  Spencer's  Biology,  Vol.  I.,   p.  404. 

(11)  Janet's    Final    Causes    (Affleck's    Translation),    pp.    18,    19. 

(12)  Id.,  p.  42.  (13)  Id.,  p.  27.  (14)  Quoted  by  Janet,  Id.,  p.  48. 
(15)  Diman's  The  Theistic  Argument,  pp.  84,  85, 


200  PSYCHOLOGY, 

SECTION    III* 

SPACE. 

1.  Relations  of  Co-existing  Bodies. 

Every  finite  being  has  position,  or  is  somewliere,  Posi* 
tion,  considered  apart  from  the  properties  of  matter,  is  a 
point,  having  location  but  not  dimensions.  Position^ 
however,  is  a  relation  between  bodies,  determined  by 
direction.  This  is  indicated  by  a  line  connecting  the 
points  of  position.  A  line  possesses  length  but  not 
breadth  or  thickness.  Since  a  line  between  two  points 
may  be  divided  into  parts,  bodies  are  separated  by  dis- 
tance, which  is  represented  by  the  number  of  lines  of  a 
certain  standard  length,  or  unit  of  measurement,  con- 
tained in  the  line  drawn  between  the  bodies.  Lines  may 
be  so  combined  as  to  form  surfaces,  which  have  length 
and  breadth  but  not  thickness.  Surfaces  may  be  so  com- 
bined as  to  form  solids,  which  have  position,  length, 
breadth  and  thickness  combined,  that  is,  magnitude.  All 
material  forms  of  being  have  magnitude.  Bodies  co-exist 
in  the  relations  of  position,  direction,  distance  and  mag- 
nitude. Bodies  may  be  conceived  as  not  existing,  but  if 
they  exist  they  must  exist  in  these  relations.  They  are 
necessary  conditions  of  material  existence.  They  ard 
grouped  together  under  the  name  Space. 

"The  first  condition  of  spatial  experience  seems  to  lie  in  th« 
extensity  of  sensation.  This  much  we  may  allow  is  original  :  for 
the  longer  we  reflect  the  more  clearly  we  see  that  no  combination  or 
association  of  sensations  varying  only  in  intensity  and  quality,  not 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  201 

even  if  motor  presentations  were  added,  will  account  for  the  space- 
element  in  our  perceptions.  A  series  of  touches  a,  b,  c,  d,  may  be 
combined  with  a  series  of  movements  m^,  m^,  m^,  m^\  both  series 
may  be  reversed ;  and  finally  the  touches  may  be  produced  simul- 
taneously. In  this  way  we  can  attain  the  knowledge  of  the  co-exist- 
ence of  objects  that  have  a  certain  ciuasi-distance  between  tbem,  and 
such  experience  is  an  important  element  in  our  perception  of  space ; 
but  it  is  not  the  whole  of  it.  For,  as  has  been  already  remarked  by 
critics  of  the  associationist  psychology,  we  have  an  experience  very 
similar  to  this  in  singing  and  hearing  the  musical  notes  of  the  chro- 
matic scale.  The  most  elaborate  attempt  to  get  exten^ity  out  of  suc- 
cession and  co-existence  is  that  of  Herbert  Spencer.  He  has  done, 
perhaps,  all  that  can  be  done,  and  only  to  make  it  the  more  plain 
that  the  entire  procedure  is  a  hysteron-proteron.  We  do  not  first 
experience  a  succession  of  touches  or  of  retinal  excitations  by  means 
of  movements,  and  then,  when  these  impressions  are  simultaneously 
presented,  regard  them  as  extensive,  because  they  are  associated 
with  or  symbolize  the  original  series  of  movements;  but,  before  and 
apart  from  the  movement  altogether,  we  experience  that  massiveness 
or  extensity  of  impressions  in  which  movements  enable  us  to  find 
positions,  and  also  to  measure."  ^  Such  a  primary  knowledge  of 
space-filling  sensation  may  be  called  intuitive.  It  does  not  include 
a  definite  knowledge  of  space-relations,  however.  These  are  ac- 
quired by  analyzing  the  extensity  presented  to  consciousness  by 
each  and  all  of  the  senses,  but  preeminently  by  touch.  As  was 
stated  on  page  51,  "extension,  or  space-occupancy,  seems  to  be  a 
datum  in  every  actual  experience  of  Sense-perception." 


2.  Space,  Extension,  and  Immensity  Distinguished. 

Space^  extension,  and  immensity  should  be  discriminated 
as  follows  : 

(1)  Space  is  a  relation  of  co-existence  between  material 
bodies. 

(2)  Extension  is  the  attribute  of  continuity  in  matter. 

(3)  Immensity  is   the  attribute  of   immeasurability  ic 
Infinite  Being. 


202  PSYCHOLOGY. 

"  When  it  is  said  that  we  cannot  in  thought  reach  the  limits  ol 
space,  the  reference  is  clearly  to  an  effort  of  the  Imagination  in 
stretching  out  one  beyond  the  other  a  succession  of  marks  symbolic 
of  limitation,  such  as  imaginary  pillars,  or  constantly  enlarging  cir- 
cumferences of  circles.  In  such  an  effort  of  the  Imagination  we  are 
not  dealing  with  space  at  all,  since  space  has  no  application  [except 
iJeally]  to  our  mental  energies.  .  .  .  The  attempt  to  advance  the 
pillars  still  farther  onward,  or  to  enlarge  the  circles,  is  purely  an 
effort  of  Imagination  working  with  the  symbols  of  external  realities, 
and  nothing  more.  In  prosecuting  the  effort  there  is  progression  in 
time,  or  the  succession  in  mental  states,  but  there  is  positively  no 
progression  whatever  in  space."  ^  We  cannot,  therefore,  speak  of 
space  as  infinite,  except  in  an  ideal  sense.  If  we  let  Imagination 
wander  off  in  any  direction,  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  its  going  on 
as  long  as  we  have  the  strength  to  keep  up  this  imaginary  motion. 
The  process  is,  in  this  sense,  endless.  Real  space  is  both  actually 
and  ideally  immeasurable.  No  telescope  has  penetrated  to  the  ut- 
most bounds  of  the  actual  universe  of  matter.  However  extended 
the  universe  may  be,  there  must  be  space  outside.  If,  however,  we 
pause  to  ask.  What  is  this  space  outside  ?  the  only  answer  is  nothing, 
emptiness,  pure  vacuity,  and  yet  sustaining  certain  relations  of  posi- 
tion, direction  and  distance  to  other  localities.  But  suppose  the 
whole  universe  of  matter  destroyed,  what  positions,  directions  and 
distances  would  remain?  An  infinite  number  of  possible  but  no 
actual  ones.  But  we  continue  to  think  of  space-relations  when  the 
universe  is  abolished,  we  think  of  the  place  where  it  ivas  !  We 
learn  from  this  that  the  idea  of  space  is  a  structural  principle  of 
thought. 

3.    Space  a  Relation,   not   a   Substance   or  an  At- 
tribute. 

We  have  distinguished  space  as  a  relation  of  co-exist- 
ence. It  has  often  been  treated  as  an  entity  and  as  an 
attribute  of  Being.  If  it  be  anything  at  all^  and  not  a 
mere  nothing,  it  is  either  a  substance,  an  attribute  of  a 
substance,  or  a  relation.  Let  us  examine  these  three  sup- 
positions : 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  203 

(1)  Space  is  not  a  substance. — This  is  evident  from  its 
not  possessing  any  attributes.  It  has  none  of  the  positive 
qualities  of  Being.  It  is  described  negatively,  except 
when  considered  as  a  relation  between  real  beings.  Re- 
move from  a  given  position  the  substance  that  occupies  it, 
and  space  remains  simply  as  a  relation  between  the  sur- 
rounding bodies. 

(2)  Space  is  not  an  attribute  of  a  substance. — This  is 
evident  from  its  not  being  removed  when  a  substance  is 
taken  away.  The  extension  of  a  body,  that  is,  its  conti- 
nuity, is  an  attribute,  but  it  goes  with  the  body  when  it  is 
removed.  Space  remains  behind  to  show  the  relations  in 
which  the  body  existed. 

(3)  Space  is  a  relation  of  co-existence  between  material 
bodies. — Between  separated  bodies,  that  is,  between  bodies 
having  any  "space''  between  them,  there  is  a  relation  of 
position,  a  relation  of  direction,  and  a  relation  of  distance, 
■ — and  there  is  nothing  more.  Space  is  these  relations ; 
or,  more  generally,  the  relation  of  co-existence. 

It  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  trace  the  vagaries  of  the  philosoph- 
ical mind  in  relation  to  the  nature  of  space.  Its  negative  character 
has  permitted  thinkers  to  deal  with  "  space  "  with  the  same  freedom 
that  Hegel  employed  in  dealing  with  the  "idea,"  that  is,  to  take 
almost  any  liberties  that  fancy  might  suggest  !  Truth  is  so  much 
more  important  than  error  that  a  passage  like  the  following,  by 
\  Calderwood,  is  of  more  value  than  whole  chapters  ^  like  some  that 
might  be  readily  referred  to  in  treatises  on  Psychology  and  Philoso- 
j)hy:  "What  we  have  been  accustomed  to  denominate  Space  is  the 
recognized  relation  of  extended  objects,  and  as  it  apphes  exclusively 
to  what  is  extended,  it  has  no  appUcation  whatever  to  mind  and  its 
operations.  If  we  admit  of  the  distinction  between  empty  space  and 
occupied  space,  what  is  called  empty  space  is  the  relative  position  of 
two  bodies,  or  the  distance  which  separates  them,  and  is  capable  of 
being  .Pleasured  by  the  same  standard  as  the  extended  surface  of  the 


204  PSYCHOLOGY. 

objects  themselves.  If  extension  be  considered  as  equivalent  to 
space,  which  I  am  inclined  to  deny,  then  it  is  a  perceived  quality  of 
objects,  and  it  may  be  said  in  a  sense  capable  of  vindication,  that 
we  see  space.  In  this  application  alone  can  it  be  said  with  apprecia- 
ble meaning  that  space  is  an  'extensive  quantity.'  I  conceive, 
however,  that  the  term  space  is  more  usually  and  properly  applied 
to  what  has  been  designated  empty  space,  in  contrast  to  extended 
surface.  And  such  empty  space  is  nothing  more  than  the  relative 
distance  of  extended  objects  from  each  other,  measured  on  a  standard 
similar  to  that  which  applies  to  the  bodies  themselves.  In  this  way 
it  is  equally  accurate  to  say  that  there  is  a  certain  specified  distance 
between  the  bodies,  and  that  there  is  nothing  between  them,  because 
space  is  nothing  but  their  relation  to  each  other. "  * 

4,  The  Objectivity  of  Space. 

Kant  has  treated  space  as  a  mere  internal  form  of  the 
mind,  rather  than  as  an  objective  and  real  relation  of 
external  phenomena.  In  opposition  to  this,  we  may  say 
that  the  objectivity  of  space  rests  npon  the  same  founda- 
tion as  the  objectivity  of  matter ;  for  the  relations  of  a 
thing  must  be  where  the  thing  itself  is.  The  doctrine  of 
Relationism  is  opposed  to  the  whole  Kantian  scheme  of 
Subjectivism.  Space  is  both  a  constitutive  relation  of 
bodies  and  a  regulative  law  of  mind,  not  a  mere  category 
of  the  mind  itself. 

Kant  says  :  "Space  is  nothing  but  the  form  of  the  phenomena  of 
all  external  senses  ;  it  is  a  subjective  condition  of  our  sensibility, 
without  which  no  external  intuition  is  possible  for  us.  If,  then,  we 
consider  that  the  receptivity  of  the  subj  ect,  its  capacity  of  being  af- 
fected by  objects,  must  necessarily  precede  all  intuition  of  objects, 
we  shall  understand  how  the  form  of  all  phenomena  may  be 
given  before  all  real  perceptions,  may  be,  in  fact,  a  priori  in  the 
soul,  and  may,  as  a  pure  intuition,  by  which  all  objectively  must  be 
determined,  contain,  prior  to  all  experience,  principles  regulating 
their  relations.     It  is,  therefore,  from  the  human  standpoint  onl^ 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  205 

that  we  can  speak  of  space,  extended  objects,  etc.  If  we  drop  the 
subjective  condition  under  which  alone  we  can  gain  external  intui- 
tion, according  as  we  ourselves  may  be  affected  by  objects,  the  repre- 
sentation of  space  means  nothing."  ^  It  is  "from  the  human  stand- 
point only"  that  we  can  speak  of  anything.  Of  course  "space 
means  nothing  "  to  us,  except  as  it  is  known  by  us  !  Here  is  a  root 
of  skepticism  that  should  be  pulled  up.  If  we  must  always  think  of 
things  as  in  space,  it  is  because  they  are  in  space.  So  far  as  we  have 
any  knowledge,  or  suspicion,  on  the  subject,  things  are  in  space  from 
a  "canine"  or  "feline"  standpoint  quite  as  much  as  from  a  "hu- 
man "  standpoint.  Kant's  "  only,"  as  here  employed,  is  either  mean- 
ingless or  else  it  is  a  great  leap  in  the  dark.  If  the  town  in  which 
I  live  is  outside  of  me,  the  space  in  which  it  stands  is  also  outside 
of  me,  not  only  as  a  necessity  of  my  thinking,  but  as  a  necessity  of 
its  own  existence. 


5.  Keal  and  Ideal  Space. 

The  truth  in  Kant's  doctrine  is^  that  space  is  not  onl'§ 
objective  and  real,  but  also  subjective  and  ideal.  These 
two  are  not  the  same.  The  houses  of  a  town  exist  in  real 
space.  My  representative  ideas  of  those  houses  are  dis- 
posed in  my  consciousness  in  ideal  space.  Real  space  is 
the  relation  between  real  bodies.  Ideal  space  is  the  rela- 
tion between  subjective  ideas  of  bodies.  All  the  ptroducts 
of  Imagination  are  arranged  in  space.  Vast  cathedrals, 
whole  cities,  the  entire  solar  system,  as  apprehended  by 
the  mind,  are  thus  represented  in  ideal  space,  in  con- 
sciousness. In  the  flight  of  Imagination  from  the  earth 
to  the  most  distant  star,  the  conscious  subject  does  not 
leave  the  narrow  boundaries  of  a  few  inches, — the  dimen- 
sions of  his  cranium  I 

"Animals,"  says  Spencer,  "having  great  locomotive  powers  are 
not  likely  to  have  the  same  conceptions  of  given  spaces  as  animals 
1,/hose  locomotive  powers  are  very  small,     To  a  creature  so  con' 


206  PSYCHOLOOY. 

Btructed  that  its  experiences  of  the  larger  spaces  around  have  been 
gained  by  long  and  quick  bounds,  distances  can  scarcely  present  the 
aspects  they  do  to  a  creature  which  traverses  them  by  slow  and  many 
steps.  The  dimensions  of  our  bodies  and  the  spaces  moved  through 
by  our  limbs,  serve  us  as  standards  of  comparison  with  environing 
dimensions;  and  conceptions  of  smallness  or  largeness  result,  ac- 
cording as  these  environing  dimensions  are  much  less  or  much 
greater  than  the  organic  dimensions.  Hence,  the  consciousness  of  a 
given  relation  of  two  positions  in  space,  must  vary  quantitatively 
with  bodily  bulk.  Clearly,  a  mouse,  which  has  to  run  many  times 
its  own  length  to  traverse  the  space  which  a  man  traverses  at  a 
stride,  cannot  have  the  same  conception  of  this  space  as  a  man. 
Quantitative  changes  in  these  compound  relations  of  co-existence  are 
traceable  by  each  person  in  his  own  mental  history,  from  childhood 
to  maturity.  Distances  which  seemed  great  to  the  boy  seem  moder- 
ate to  the  man ;  and  buildings  once  thought  imposing  in  height  and 
mass,  dwindle  into  insignificance.  The  physiological  state  of  the 
organism  also  modifies  quantitatively  this  form  of  consciousness  to 
a  considerable  extent.  De  Quincey,  describing  some  of  his  opium 
dreams,  says  that  '  buildings  and  landscapes  were  exhibited  in  pro- 
portions so  vast  as  the  bodily  eye  is  not  fitted  to  receive.  Space 
swelled,  and  was  amplified  to  an  extent  of  unutterable  infinity.'  It 
is  not  an  uncommon  thing  with  nervous  subjects  to  have  illusive 
perceptions  in  which  the  body  seems  enormously  extended;  even  to 
the  covering  an  acre  of  ground."  * 

In  this  section,  on  "  Space,"  we  have  considered  :— 

1,  Relations  of  Co-exist hir/  Bodies, 

2»  Space f  Extension  and  Immensity  Distinguished. 

3.  Space  a  Relation,  not  a  Substance  or  an  Attri- 
bute. 

4.  The  Objectivity  of  Space. 

5.  Ileal  and  Ideal  Space. 

References  :  (1)  James  Ward's  Psychology  (Encyclopfedia  Britanr 
nica  XX.),  p.  53.  (2)  Calderwood's  Philosophy  of  the  Infinite,  pp. 
333,  334.  (3)  For  examination  of  writers  on  Space  and  references, 
see  Cocker's  Theistic  Conception  of  the  World,  pp.  68,  75.     (4)  Cai- 


CONSTITUTIVE   KNOWLEDGE.  207 

derwood's  Philosophy  of  the  Infinite,  pp.  331,  332.  (5)  Kaut'« 
Critique  of  Pure  Reason  (Max  Miiller's  Translation),  II.,  pp.  23,  24 
(6)  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psychology,  Part  IL,  Chapter  III. 


SECTIOIT  lY* 

TIME. 


1.  Relations  of  Successive  Phenomena. 

Every  event  begins  at  some  instant.  It  constitutes  one 
of  a  series,  and  appears  in  an  order  of  succession.  Suc- 
cession involves  the  relation  of  antecedent  and  conse- 
quent, that  is,  events  are  distinguished  as  before  and 
after.  A  single  instant  gives  us  one,  or  a  unit.  By  the 
addition  of  units  we  obtain  a  numerical  quantity.  There 
are  concurrent  successions  of  events,  the  successive  in- 
stants of  which  may  be  numbered.  Taking  some  one  of 
the  units  as  a  standard,  these  quantities  may  be  measured 
by  the  number  of  times  clie  standard  is  contained  in  the 
quantities.  An  event  beginning  at  some  instant  may  also 
end  at  some  instant.  Its  continuance  from  its  beginning 
to  its  end  is  called  its  duration.  All  events  have  dura- 
tion. As  related  to  one  another,  they  exist  in  the  rela- 
tion of  antecedent  and  consequent,  unless  they  are  con- 
temporary. Events  may  be  thought  of  as  never  occurring, 
but  if  they  occur  they  occur  in  these  relations.  These  are 
the  necessary  conditions  of  the  occurrence  of  events.  They 
are  grouped  together  under  the  name  Time. 

The  experience  of  succession  requires  as  its  condition  the  perma- 
nence of  the  knowing  »elf  during  the  period  of  the  experience  of 


208  PSYCHOLOGY. 

such  succession.  Here,  as  everywhere,  we  see  how  inadt  quale  is  the 
theory  of  self  which  resolves  it  into  a  mere  flow  and  succession  of 
sensations.  That  which  compares  the  past  and  the  present  must 
itself  have  duration  as  the  condition  of  such  relating  activity.  This 
is  so  obvious  that  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  any  one  could  ever  have 
overlooked  it.  But  the  power  to  know  is  quite  as  essential  to  this 
activity  as  duration  of  being.  Hence  the  futility  of  every  attempt 
to  derive  the  knowing  power  from  the  series  of  sensations  which 
requires  it  as  the  necessary  precondition  of  their  being  known. 

2.  Time,  Duration  and  Eternity  Distinguished. 

Time,  duration  and  eternity  should  be  distifiguished  as 
follows  : 

(1)  Time  is  a  relation  of  succession  between  events  or 
phenomena. 

(2)  Duration  is  the  attribute  of  continuance  in  events 
or  phenomena. 

(3)  Eternity  is  the  attribute  of  unlimited  duration  in. 
Infinite  and  Absolute  Being. 

3.  Time  a   Relation,  not  a  Substance  or  an  Attri- 
bute. 

Like  space,  time  has  often  been  treated  as  if  it  were  a 
substance  or  an  attribute.  Examination  will  show  that 
it  is  neither,  but  simply  a  relation. 

(1)  Time  is  not  a  substance. — It  possesses  no  attributes. 
Except  as  a  relation  between  phenomena,  there  is  nothing 
by  which  it  may  be  distinguished. 

(2)  Time  is  not  an  attribute  of  a  substance. — Substances 
have  being  during  changes  which  occur  in  time,  but  time 
is  not  a  quality  that  may  be  attributed  to  any  substance. 
Continuance  is  an  attribute  of  substance  as  it  is  of  phe- 
nomena,  but  this  is  duration. 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  209 

(3)  Time  is  a  relation. — What  we  call  an  ''hour"  is 
simply  the  twenty-fourth  part  of  a  day,  or  period  during 
which  the  earth  revolves  on  its  axis.  It  notes  a  series  of 
changes,  and  is  wholly  meaningless  except  as  we  imagine 
change.  It  is  the  relation  of  succession  between  these 
changes. 

4.   The  Objectivity  of  Time. 

Kant  has  denied  the  objectivity  of  time,  in  the  same 
manner  and  on  the  same  ground  as  the  objectivity  of 
space.  Can  we  convince  ourselves  that  time-relations  did 
not  really  subsist  between  the  geological  epochs,  and  that 
time  applies  to  them  only  in  our  own  minds  ?  If  not,  we 
shall  be  obliged  to  dissent  from  this  form  of  Subjectivism 
also  and  accei^t  the  objectivity  of  time. 

Kant  says :  "Time  is  simply  a  subjective  condition  of  our  (human) 
intuition  (which  is  always  sensuous,  that  is,  so  far  as  we  are  affected 
by  objects),  but  by  itself,  apart  from  the  subject,  nothing."* 

5.  Real  and  Ideal  Time. 

Time,  like  space,  is  both  real  and  ideal.  All  our 
products  of  Imagination  are  grouped  in  the  relation  of 
time.  It  is  possible  for  us  to  imagine  geological  epochs 
in  a  few  moments  of  time.  This  shows  that  time  is  a 
mere  relation  that  may  exist  between  purely  imaginary 
phenomena  as  well  as  between  actual  events.  ''  The 
flight  of  time,"  as  we  call  it,  depends  upon  subjective 
conditions.  Eeal  time,  as  measured  by  the  sun  or  by 
clocks  and  watches,  may  be  very  ''long,"  that  is,  include 
a  great  many  successive  motions,  while  ideal  time  cover- 
ing the  same  interval  may  be  very  "short,"  or  vice  versa. 


210  PSYCHOLOGY. 

This  is  the  truth  expressed  in  tlie  lines  of  Bailey's  "Festus": 

"  We  live  in  deeds,  not  j'ears  ;  in  tlioughts,  not  breaths  ; 
In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
We  should  count  time  by  heart  throbs.     He  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most— feels  the  noblest— acts  the  best." 

"  Subjective  rhythms,  partly  of  the  vital  functions  and  partly  of  the 
locomotive  functions,  mark  out  consciousness  into  tolerably  regular 
intervals  ;  thus  yielding  measures  between  states  of  consciousness 
otherwise  caused — standards  of  duration.  Hence  a  small  creature, 
in  which  these  rhythms  are  very  rapid,  must  have  a  consciousness  of 
a  given  objective  interval  widely  iinliko  the  consciousness  of  it  pos- 
sessed by  a  large  animal,  whose  rhythms  are  relatively  very  slow.  A 
gnat's  wings  make  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  strokes  per  second.  Each 
stroke  implies  a  separate  nervous  action.  Each  such  nervous  action, 
or  change  in  a  nervous  centre,  is  probably  as  appreciable  by  the  gnat 
as  is  a  quick  movement  of  the  arm  by  a  man.  And  if  this,  or  any- 
thing like  this,  is  the  fact,  then  the  time  occupied  by  a  given  external 
change,  measured  by  many  movements  in  the  one  case,  must  seem 
much  longer  than  it  seems  in  the  other  case,  when  measured  by  a 
single  movement.  .  .  .  Whatever  exalts  the  vital  activities  antl  so 
makes  mental  impressions  stronger,  exaggerates  the  conceptions  of 
durations.  This  is  notably  the  case  in  persons  under  the  influence 
of  opium.  Detailing  his  experiences  of  this  influence,  De  Quincey 
says  that  he  sometimes  seemed  '  to  have  lived  70  or  100  years  in  one 
night  ; '  nay,  to  have  had  '  feelings  representative  of  a  millennium 
passed  in  that  time,  or,  however,  of  a  duration  far  beyond  the  limits 
of  any  human  experience.'  .  .  .  Intervals  of  time,  like  intervals  of 
space,  become  apparently  small  in  proportion  to  their  remoteness. 
An  evening  spent  at  a  friend's  house,  seems  of  considerable  length 
when  looked  back  upon  at  the  moment  of  departure.  When  recalled 
a  week  after,  it  subtends  by  no  means  so  great  an  angle  in  conscious- 
ness ;  and  the  angle  it  subtends  in  consciousness  when  we  are  re- 
minded of  it  a  year  after,  is  very  small."  * 

6.  The  Relation  of  Space  and  Time  to  each  other. 

Space  is  a  relation  of  co-existence  and  time  is  a  relation 
of  succession.     The  same  realities  exist  in  both  relations. 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  211 

Thus^  the  earth  co-exists  with  the  other  bodies  in  the  solar 
system  and  constantly  changes  its  relation  of  co-existence 
by  its  motions.  Motion  involves  the  relations  of  both 
space  and  time.  The  earth  rotates  on  its  axis  365  times 
while  it  is  making  one  revolution  round  the  sun.  Thus 
space  is  the  measure  of  time,  and  time  is  the  measure  of 
space.  Given  the  time  and  the  velocity,  we  can  calculate 
the  distance  ;  or  given  the  distance  and  the  velocity,  we 
can  calculate  the  time.  Thus  all  our  measures  of  time 
are  motions  in  space,  the  revolution  of  the  earth  round 
the  sun  making  a  "year,^^  the  rotation  of  the  earth  on  its 
axis  making  a  "  day,^'  and  a  certain  number  of  oscillations 
of  a  pendulum  making  an  "  hour."  Hence  the  adjectives 
a^iplied  to  space  come  to  be  applied  also  to  time,  and  we 
speak  of  a  ''  long  "  time  and  a  "  short "  time.  We  usually 
mean  by  these  terms  to  indicate  duration  ;  but  duration 
is  measured  by  time,  that  is,  by  the  number  of  successive 
phenomena  in  something  moving.  For  example,  one  says 
he  is  twenty  years  old,  meaning  that  his  duration  as  a  liv- 
ing being  has  been  twenty  years  of  time,  or  twenty  revolu- 
tions of  the  earth  round  the  sun. 

' '  Let  us  suppose,  that  from  some  given  instant,  for  example  from 
to-day,  the  course  of  the  stars  and  of  our  earth  becomes  twice  as 
rapid  as  before,  and  that  the  year  passes  by  in  six  months,  each 
season  in  six  weeks  and  each  day  in  twelve  hours ;  that  the  period 
of  the  life  of  man  is  in  like  manner  reduced  to  one  half  of  its  present 
duration,  so  that,  speaking  in  general  terms,  tlie  longest  human  life, 
instead  of  eighty  years,  lasts  for  forty,  each  of  which  contains  as 
many  of  the  new  days  of  twelve  hours  as  the  former  years  did,  when 
the  days  were  twenty-four  hours  long ;  the  drawing  of  our  breath  and 
the  stroke  of  the  pulse  would  proceed  with  double  their  usual  rapidity, 
and  our  new  period  of  life  would  appear  to  us  of  the  normal  length. 
The  hands  of  the  clock  would  no  longer  make  the  circuit  in  one  hour 
and  in  twelve,  but  the  long  hand  in  thirty  minutes,  the  short  one  in 


212  PSYCHOLOGY. 

six  hours.  The  development  of  plants  and  animals  would  take  place 
with  double  their  usual  speed ;  and  the  wind  and  the  lightning  would 
consume,  in  their  rapid  course,  but  one  half  of  their  present  time. 

'•  With  these  suppositions,  I  ask,  in  what  way  should  we  be  af- 
fected by  the  change  ?  The  answer  to  this  question  is.  We  should 
be  cognizant  of  no  change.  We  should  even  consider  one  who  sup-i 
posed  or  who  attempted  to  point  out  that  such  a  change  had  taken 
place  was  mad,  or  we  should  look  upon  him  as  an  enthusiast.  We 
should  have  no  possible  ground  to  consider  that  any  other  condition 
had  existed.  Now,  as  we  can  determine  the  lapse  of  any  period  of 
time  only  by  comparison,  or  by  measuring  it  with  some  other  period, 
and  as  every  division  of  time  which  we  use  in  our  comparison  or  in 
our  measurements  has  been  lessened  by  one  half  its  duration,  the 
original  proportion  would  still  be  unchanged.  Our  forty  years 
would  pass  as  the  eighty  did ;  we  should  perform  every  thing  twice 
as  quickly  as  before ;  but  as  our  life,  our  breath,  and  our  movements 
are  proportionally  hastened,  it  would  be  impossible  to  measure  the 
increased  speed,  or  even  to  remark  it.  As  far  as  we  could  tell,  every 
thing  had  remained  precisely  as  it  was  before,  not  comparatively, 
but  absolutely,  provided  we  had  no  standard,  external  to  the  accel- 
erated course  of  events  in  the  world,  by  which  we  could  perceive  the 
changes  or  measure  them.  A  similar  result  would  follow,  if  we 
imagined  the  course  of  time  reduced  to  the  fourth,  instead  of  to  the 
half,  so  that  the  year  would  consist  of  three  months.  .  .  .  For  the 
same  reasons,  if  the  period  and  processes  of  life  and  the  course  of 
events  in  the  world  around  us,  were  accelerated  a  thousand  or  a 
million  times,  we  should  obtain  a  similar  result !  "  ^ 

In  this  section,  on  "  Time,"  we  have  considered  :— 

1,  Relations  of  Successive  Phenomena, 

2,  Time,  Duration  and  Eternity  DistifiguisJied, 

3,  Time  a  Relation^  not  a  Substance  or  an  Attribute, 

4,  The  Objectivity  of  Time, 

5,  Real  and  Ideal  Time, 

6,  The  Relation  of  Space  and  Time  to  each  other. 

References  :  (1)  Kant's  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  (Max  Miiller's 
Translation),  p.  30.  (2)  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psychology,  Part 
II.,  Chapter  III.  (3)  The  Stars  and  the  Earth  (anonymous,  edited 
by  Thomas  Hill),  pp.  67,  70. 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE, 


213 


SECTION  Y. 

THE    DEVELOPMENT   OF    INTELLECT. 

1.  Summary  of  Results. 

In  the  preceding  pages,  we  have  examined  the  four 
kinds  of  knowledge  which  we  possess  and  the  powers  and 
jjrocesses  by  which  they  are  obtained.  We  must  not  for- 
get, in  the  multiplicity  of  details,  the  essential  unity  of  the 
soul.  Intellect  is  simply  one  of  the  three  generic  modes 
of  psychical  activity  ;  vSensibility  and  Will,  which  we  have 
still  to  consider,  being  the  other  two.  While  Intellect  is 
employed  in  a  variety  of  modes,  each  one  of  which  we 
call,  for  convenience,  a  ''power''  or  a  ''process  ''  of  Intel- 
iect,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Intellect  is  a  bundle  of 
separate  entities,  like  the  organs  of  the  body  ;  it  is  rather 
one  faculty  acting  in  many  ways.  Never  losing  sight  of 
these  truths,  we  may,  for  the  purpose  of  a  summary, 
classify  the  results  and  processes  of  Intellect  as  follows . 


'    I. 

Present  ative          j  1.  Self -consciousness. 
Knowledge,  by  (  2.  Sense-perception. 

'  1.  Association. 

II. 

Representative       1  2.  Phantasy. 
Knowledge,  by  1  3.  Memory. 

Intellect 

^  4.  Imagination. 

obtains: 

III. 

Elaborative            T  1-  Conception. 

Knowledge,  by  ^  2-  J^^g™^^*- 
^       ^    ^3.  Reasoning. 

lY. 

Constitutive 

■ 

Knowledge,  by  Rational  Intuition  of 

1.  hkjing. 

2.  Cause. 

3.  Space. 

4.  Time. 


214  PSYCEOLOGY. 


2,  The  Stages  of  Knowing. 

It  IS  evident  that  clie  order  which  we  have  followed  in 
onr  examination  is  also  the  order  in  which  the  different 
processes  of  knowing  become  possible.  Sense-presenta- 
tion, association  of  ideas,  reprodnction  of  ideas,  recogni- 
tion of  ideas,  recombination  of  ideas,  formation  of  abstract 
ideas,  judgment  and  reasoning  are  possible  only  as  each 
preceding  stage  furnishes  the  materials  for  each  successive 
process  in  the  development  of  intellectual  activity.  It 
may  be  said  that  Self -consciousness  is  not  necessary  to 
these  processes.  AVhether  Self-consciousness  is  an  excep- 
tion or  not,  depends  entirely  upon  what  is  involved  in  it. 
If  it  is  interpreted  to  mean  (1)  an  abstract  idea  of  self , 
the  product  of  Conception,  it  is  certainly  not  necessary 
and  must  be  considered  as  a  late  product  of  thought.  If, 
however,  we  mean  by  it  (2)  a  concrete  co7isciousness  of 
having  sensations  and  2^erce2)tiojis  and  hnoiving  these  as 
0U7-  own,  it  seems  to  be  an  indispensable  condition  of  all 
continuous  mental  experience.  It  is  in  this  latter  sense 
that  the  term  ^^  Self -consciousness'^  has  been  employed. 

The  use  of  the  pronoun  "I"  to  indicate  the  conscious  self,  is  a 
comparatively  late  acquisition  in  the  psychical  experience  of  a  child. 
The  poet  Tennyson  has  beautifully  expressed  the  truth  upon  this 
point : 

*'  The  baby,  new  to  earth  and  sky. 

What  time  his  tender  palm  is  pressed 
Against  the  circle  of  the  breast, 
Has  never  thought  that  this  is  L 

**But  as  he  grows,  he  gathers  much. 
And  learns  the  use  of  I '  and  '  me,* 
And  finds  I  am  not  what  I  see, 
And  other  than  the  things  I  touch ; 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE,  215 

"  So  rounds  he  to  a  separate  mind, 

From  whence  clear  memory  may  begin, 
As  thro'  the  frame  that  binds  him  in, 
His  isolation  grows  defined." 

Long  before  the  pronoun  is  employed,  the  child  uses  his  own 
proper  name,  caught  from  the  lips  of  others,  to  designate  himself. 
But  even  long  before  this,  he  is  conscious  of  himself  as  the  subject 
of  pain  and  pleasure,  sights  and  sounds.  However  difficult  it  may- 
be to  trace  and  to  date  the  dawn  of  Self-consciousness,  it  is  certain 
that  at  the  beginning  of  rational  life  lies  the  distinction  of  subject 
and  object.  The  child  who  says  "I,"  or  who  even  lisps  his  own 
name,  has  accomplished  a  feat  which  no  lower  animal  can  perform 
at  the  climax  of  its  development.  He  has  opened  his  eyes  upon  the 
rational  order  that  is  never  apprehended  by  the  brute,  however  acute 
his  senses  and  however  astonishing  his  instincts. 


3.  The  Development  of  Intellect. 

The  progressive  unfolding  of  the  knowing  power  is  an 
evident  development.  Its  ralpidity  varies  in  different  per- 
sons and  in  different  races,  and  in  some  it  is  liable  to  final 
arrest  at  stages  which  others  pass.  The  majority  of  men 
never  develop  the  highest  power  of  analysis  and  reflec- 
tion. Are  we  to  hold,  in  the  light  of  these  facts  of  devel- 
opment, that  Intellect  is  gradually  evolved  from  something 
that  is  not  Intellect,  or  must  Ave  consider  its  growth  as  the 
progressive  manifestation  of  a  peculiar  power  already  latent 
in  the  soul  ?  The  Sensational  School  of  psychologists 
would  derive  all  the  higher  powers  of  Intellect  from  sensa= 
tion.  1  For  them,  mind  is  simply  a  ^^  series  of  sensations," 
growing  in  complexity  with  the  increase  of  experience. 
Our  whole  analysis  of  Intellect  has  shown  the  inadequacy 
of  this  theory.  Intellect  always  accompanies  sensation 
and  is  necessary  to  the  interpretation  of  it.  No  conceiv- 
able transformation  of  mere  sensation,  or  association  of 


216  PSYCHOLOOY. 

sensations,  can  explain  even  the  simplest  processes  of 
knowledge.  We  must  assume,  at  the  very  beginning,  a 
knowing  power,  or  Intellect,  capable  of  distinguishing 
and  interpreting  sensations,  or  emergence  into  rational 
life  is  impossible. 

The  "  association  of  ideas  "  is  mainly  relied  upon  by  such  writ- 
ers as  Mlll^  and  Bain,^  to  explain  the  evolution  of  Intellect  from 
sensation.  There  can  be  no  "idea,"  however,  without  a  knowing 
subject  already  possessing  Intellect.  Isolated  sensations  do  not  con° 
stitute  "  ideas."  Ideas  are  forms  of  knowledge  in  a  conscious  mind. 
"Association"  explains  nothing.  As  we  have  seen,  it  requires  to  be 
explained,  and  when  explained  is  finally  resolved  into  a  habit  of  the 
soul.  Even  sensations  exist  only  for  a  being  that  hnoivs  them.  If 
it  be  said  that  vibrations  in  the  brain  become  associated,  the  whole 
ground  is  shifted.  Such  molecular  movements  are  not  Intellect  and 
no  combination  of  them  alone  would  constitute  knowledge.  Every 
attempt  to  derive  Intellect  from  something  else,  either  psychical  or 
physical,  melts  away  upon  close  examination.  We  can  simply  assert 
that  the  conscious  subject  possesses  Intellect,  a  power  of  knowing 
which,  like  every  other  power,  develops  with  exercise. 

4.  The  Parallel  Development  of  Intellect  and  Brain. 

In  connection  with  the  fact  that  Intellect  develops,  we 
have  the  kindred  fact  that  Intellect  and  brain  develop 
together.  As  the  brain  of  a  child  grows.  Intellect  in- 
creases ;  when  the  brain  is  injured  or  diseased,  the  func- 
tions of  Intellect  are  impeded  ;  when  health  is  restored  to 
the  brain,  the  vigor  of  Intellect  is  regained.  These,  in  a 
general  way,  are  unquestioned  facts  of  observation.  But 
the  parallelism  is  not  absolute.  The  development  of  In- 
tellect does  not  depend  entirely  upon  the  growth  of  the 
physical  organ,  the  brain,  which  so  largely  conditions  its 
activity.  It  has  never  been  shown  that  the  physical  quali- 
ties and  health  of  the  brain  directly  produce  intellectual 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  217 

power.  There  is  no  discovered  correlation  between  the 
vigor  of  Intellect  and  any  j^eculiarity  in  the  structure, 
size,  weight,  or  any  other  definable  quality  of  the  brain. 
Nothing  improves  Intellect  but  the  exercise  of  Intellect. 

The  possessor  of  a  perfectly  symmetrical  and  fully  devel- 
oped brain  may  remain  ignorant  and  stupid,  if  he  does 
not  develop  his  Intellect  by  voluntary  exercise.  Some  of 
the  world's  most  vigorous  minds,  on  the  other  hand,  have 
been  housed  in  unsymmetrical  and  diminutive  brains,  con- 
stantly filled  with  physical  pain  indicative  of  disease.  The 
parallelism,  then,  is  not  closer  than  that  between  fine 
workmanship  and  suj^erior  tools, — which  certainly  doe? 
not  prove  that  the  tools  do  the  work. 


Tiedemann,  the  physiologist,  and  Hausmann,  the  mineralogist^ 
are  examples  of  very  able  men  with  small  brains,  theirs  weighing, 
respectively,  44  and  43  ounces.  In  savages  of  the  quarternary  age, 
who  fought  the  mammoth  and  the  cave-bear  with  rude  stone  wea- 
pons, the  size  of  the  brain-case  was  above  that  of  the  average  modern 
man.*  Such  considerations  have  led  the  French  anthropologist,  Paul 
Broca,  the  most  erudite  of  craniologists,  to  conclude  that  "no  well- 
instructed  man  would  think  of  ever  estimating  the  intelligence  by 
measuring  the  encephalon."  ^  The  best  established  correlation  be- 
tween the  brain  and  other  elements  in  human  life,  is  between  its  size 
and  complexity  and  the  complexity  of  the  muscular  system.^  The 
heaviest  human  brain  yet  on  record,  according  to  Bastian,  was  that 
of  a  Sussex  bricklayer  who  could  neither  read  nor  write.  His  brain 
weighed  67  ounces.  This  is  two  and  a  half  ounces  heavier  than 
Cuvier's,  which  weighed  64.5  ;  and  fourteen  and  a  half  ounces 
heavier  than  that  of  Daniel  Webster,  which  was  considered  excep- 
tionally large.  Bastian  concludes  that  it  "seems  perfectly  plain 
from  the  facts  recorded  that  there  is  no  necessary  or  invariable  rela- 
tion between  the  degree  of  intelligence  of  human  beings  and  the  mere 
size  or  weight  of  their  brains." '  Those  who  desire  to  find  in  brain- 
growth  some  explanation  of  intellectual  development,  usually  affirm 
that  this  development  depends  on  "quality."     It  has  not,  however, 


218  PSYCHOLOGY, 

yet  been  demonstrated  by  anatomical  or  physiological  science  pre' 
cisely  what  this  vague  word  "  quality  "  is  meant  to  signify.  It  haa 
not  been  shown  that  Intellect  is  associated  in  any  absolute  or  decisive 
manner  with  any  special  configuration,  disposition  of  internal  con- 
stituents, or  proportion  of  chemical  elements  in  the  brain.  This  is 
conceded  by  all  reputable  anatomists  and  physiologists.  It  is  evi- 
dent, therefore,  that  all  generalizations  on  this  topic  and  all  confi' 
dent  emphasis  on  the  word  "quality,"  without  specific  definition, 
are  either  dogmatism  or  speculation,  not  science. 

5.  The  Inlieritance  of  Intellect. 

Extended  observation  has  shown  that  intellectual  power 
is  capable  of  transmission  by  inheritance.^  Of  this  fact 
there  can  be  no  longer  any  donbt.  There  are^  it  is  true, 
important  exceptions,  and  much  also  must  be  ascribed  to 
favorable  conditions  of  growth  in  childhood  and  youth, 
such  as  domestic  and  educational  influences.  Mere  asso- 
ciation with  intellectual  companions  is  an  incalculable 
advantage,  and  this  the  children  of  intellectual  parents 
usually  have.  But,  after  all  reductions  are  made,  the  fact 
still  remains  that  a  high  degree  of  intellectual  power  is 
directly  inherited.  Spencer  and  others  have  employed 
this  fact  in  explaining  the  evolution  of  mind  from  lower 
to  higher  forms.  This  method  of  treatment  simply  pushes 
back  the  problem  but  does  not  solve  it.  It  does  not  ex' 
plain  the  origin  of  Intellect,  though  it  may  account,  in 
some  measure,  for  its  progress.  What  cannot  happen  in 
the  history  of  an  individual,  supposing  an  indefinite  life- 
time, cannot  happen  in  the  history  of  the  race.  Ten 
thousand  years  of  time  would  not  assist  us  in  deriving 
Intellect  from  mere  sensation.  The  case  is  rendered  more 
difficult  in  the  life  of  the  race,  for  it  cannot  be  claimed 
that  each  generation  inherits  all  the  attainments  of  all  its 


CONSTITUTIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  219 

ancestors.  As  we  have  seen  (page  44),  each  cliild  has  to 
learn  everything  from  the  beginning.  He  may,  indeed, 
inherit  a  superior  power  of  learning,  but  indefinite  time 
does  not  assist  in  explaining  the  origin  of  this  power. 

Locke  maintained  that,  at  birth,  eA^ery  mind  is  like  a  sheet  of 
blank  paper,  or  a  tabula  rasa, — i.  e.,  a  waxen  tablet  from  which  all 
previous  marks  have  been  erased.     This  doctrine  was  advanced  in 
opposition  to  that  of  "innate  ideas,"  held  and  advocated  by  Des- 
cartes.    Leibnitz  tried  to  answer  Locke  and  to  prove  that  certain 
powers  are  inherent  in  the  mind  itself.     While  Locke  and  his  fol- 
lowers held  that  "There  is  nothing  in  the  Intellect  that  has  not  pre- 
viously been  in  the  senses,"  Leibnitz  and  his  disciples  maintained 
that,  "  There  is  nothing  in  the  Litellect  which  has  not  previously 
been  in  the  senses,  except  Intellect  itself. ^^     The  notion  that  children 
are  born  with  innate  ideas,  as  distinguished  from  certain  necessary 
principles  in  the  constitution  of  the  mind,  has  been  quite  generally 
abandoned.     A  French  follower  of  Locke,  Etienne  Bonnot  de  Con- 
dillac  (1715-1780),  maintained  that  "ideas  "  are  simply  "  transformed 
sensations,"  and  that  each  individual,  as  Locke  held,  develops  his 
whole  intellectual   nature   from   his  sensational  experience.     This 
doctrine  has  widely  prevailed  in  English  thought  on  the  subject 
also,  but  the  rise  of  the  modern  theory  of  Evolution  has  revived  the 
old  doctrine  of  "innate  ideas;"  not  in  the  ancient  form,  however, 
but  in  the  form  of  "inherited  tendencies."     Spencer  says:  "If, 
at  birth,  there  exists  nothing  but  a  passive  receptivity  of  impres- 
sions, why  is  not  a  horse  as  educable  as  a  man  ?    Should  it  be  said 
that  language  makes  the  difference,  then  why  do  not  the  cat  and  the 
dog,  reared  in  the  same  household,  arrive  at  equal  degrees  and  kinds 
of  intelligence  ?  "     He  then  goes  on  to  point  out  the  force  of  Leib- 
nitz's criticisms  on  Locke.     He  proceeds  to  maintain  that  what  we 
call  "Reason"  is  organized  in  the  brain  by  a  gradual  process  of 
adjustment  to  external    relations,   which   "adjustment"  is  trans- 
mitted and  augmented  through  successive   generations.     He  con- 
cludes that,  universal  perceptions  "  being  the  constant  and  infinitely 
repeated  elements  of  thought,  they  must  become  the  automatic  ele- 
ments of  thought— the  elements  of  thought  which  it  is  impossible  to 
get  rid  of— the  '  forms  of  intuition.' " »    The  difficulty  in  the  way  ot 


220  PSYCnOLOOY, 

this  ingenious  doctrine  is,  that  Intellect  is  the  pre-condition  of  aN 
rational  experience.  In  order  that  our  ancestors  should  be  able  to 
have  rational  experience  whose  results  they  could  transmit,  they 
must  first  have  possessed  Reason.  The  inferior  animals  transmit 
no  such  "  intuitions,"  because  they  do  not  possess  them. 

In  this  section,  on  "  The  Development  of  Intellect," 
we  have  considered : — 

1.  Suniiiiary  of  Hestilts, 

2.  The  Stages  of  Knowing. 

3.  The  development  of  Intellect, 

4.  The  Parallel  Development  of  Intellect  and 
Srain. 

5.  Tlie  Inheritance  of  Intellect, 

References  :  (1)  See  the  exhaustive  review  of  this  attempt,  witK 
full  and  explicit  references,  in  Calderwood's  Handbook  of  Moral 
Philosophy,  pp.  98,  122.  (2)  See  the  Notes  of  J.  S.  Mill  in  James 
Mill's  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind,  Chapter  III.  (3)  See  Bain's 
Notes  to  the  last-named  work  also  and  his  whole  treatment  of  Intel- 
Ject  in  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect.  (4)  Quatrefages'  Tlie  Human 
Species,  p.  312.  (5)  Id.,  p.  410.  (6)  Calderwood's  Relations  of 
Mind  and  Brain,  p.  206.  (7)  Bastian's  The  Brain  as  an  Organ  of 
Mind,  pp.  368,  369.  (8)  See  Galton's  Hereditary  Genius  and  Ribot's 
Heredity.  (9)  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psychology,  I.,  Part  IVc, 
Chapter  VU. 


PART   ll.-SENSIBILITY. 


1.  Definition  of  Sensibility. 

Sensibility  is  the  faculty  of  feeling,  or  of  experiencing 
pleasure  and  pain.  The  word  is  derived  from  the  Latin 
sensibilitas,  which  conveys  the  idea  of  ability  to  feel.  It 
is  to  be  distinguished  from  Intellect,  the  faculty  of  know- 
ing, and  Will,  the  faculty  of  directing. 

Numerous  efforts  have  been  made  to  mark  the  distinction  be- 
tween knowledge  and  feeling.  Among  the  most  ingenious  of  these 
is  the  following  discrimination  offered  by  Dewey;  "  Feeling  is  the 
subjective  side  of  consciousness,  knowledge  its  objective  side.  Will 
is  the  relation  between  the  subjective  and  the  objective.  Every  con* 
Crete  consciousness  is  this  connection  between  the  individual  as  sub 
jective  and  the  universe  as  objective.  Suppose  the  consciousness  to 
be  that  arising  from  a  cut  of  a  finger.  The  pain  is  purely  sub- 
jective ;  it  belongs  to  the  self  pained,  and  can  be  shared  by  no  other. 
The  cut  is  an  objective  fact;  something  which  maybe  present  to  the 
senses  of  all  and  apprehended  by  their  intelligences.  It  is  one  object 
amid  the  world  of  objects.  Or,  let  the  consciousness  be  that  of  the 
death  of  a  friend.  This  has  one  side  which  connects  it  uniquely 
with  the  individual;  it  has  a  certain  value  for  him  as  a  person,  with- 
out any  reference  to  its  bearings  as  an  event  which  has  happened 
objectively.  It  is  subjective  feeling.  But  it  is  also  an  event  which 
has  happened  in  the  sphere  of  objects;  something  present  in  the 
same  way  to  all.  It  is  objective  ;  material  of  information.  Will 
always  serves  to  connect  the  subjective  and  objective  sides,  just  as 
it  connects  the  individual  and  the  universal."'  These  statements 
may  assist  us  in  forming  a  right  judgment  concerning  the  nature  of 
feeling,  but  they  tend  to  confuse  our  ideas  concerning  the  nature  of 
knowledge.     Knowledge  may  be  of  the  objective,  but  it  is  not  itself 


222  PSYCHOLOGY. 

objective.  It  is  always  relative  to  the  individual  mind  which  knows. 
If  it  is  possible  to  all  who  are  endowed  with  the  necessary  powers, 
so  also  is  feeling.  If  we  regard  the  experience  of  both  knowledge 
and  feeling,  both  are  subjective.  If  we  regard  the  causes  of  both 
knowledge  and  feeling,  these  are  equally  objective.  "Conscious- 
ness" cannot  be  regarded  as  having  two  "sides,"  a  " subjective " 
and  an  "objective"  side.  The  distinction  does  not  seem  to  hold 
good  and  to  mark  off  the  peculiar  quality  of  feeling  from  the  pe- 
culiar quality  of  knowledge.  These  qualities  are  inexplicable  in  any 
terms  other  than  themselves.  Whoever  can  know  and  feel,  knows 
that  knowledge  and  feeling  are  different,  as  he  knows  that  red  and 
blue  are  different,  but  the  expressions  "objective  "  and  "  subjective  " 
do  not  mark  this  difference. 


2.    Diificulties  in   Treating-  the  Phenomena  of 
Sensibility. 

As  the  phenomena  of  Intellect  are  forms  of  knoAvledge, 
60  the  phenomena  of  Sensibility  are  forms  of  feeling. 
Feeling  is  not,  like  knowledge,  a  psychical  activity,  but 
an  accoinpaniment  of  activity.  Knowledge  can  be  repro- 
duced by  the  soul ;  feeling  cannot  be  reproduced  directly, 
but  only  as  an  accompaniment.  Hence,  there  are  certain 
special  difficulties  in  the  treatment  of  feeling. 

(1)  The  phenomena  of  Sensibility  exist  only  under  cer- 
tain conditions  of  production. — States  of  feeling  cannot  be 
produced  at  will.  Having  been  produced,  they  cannot  be 
recalled  in  their  completeness.  We  have  already  seen  why 
pains  cannot  be  reproduced  (page  98).  Representative 
ideas  of  feelings  are  not,  properly  speaking,  feelings. 
Feelings  exist,  therefore,  only  when  their  special  causes 
are  acting.  This  renders  it  difficult  to  compare  and 
study  them. 

(•2)  They  are  exceedingly  evanescent. — As  the  causes  of 
feeling  are  constantly  changing,  the  feelings  change.    No 


SENSIBILITY.  323 

state  of  feeling  can  persist  uninterruptedly  for  a  long 
time.  There  is  perpetual  alternation  of  different  feel- 
ings. Hence^  feeling  lias  often  been  compared  to  a 
*^^stream.^^  We  speak  of  ^^  trains  of  ideas/'  but  of 
^'^ currents  of  feeling.'"  The  reason  is  obvious.  Ideas 
persist  and  have  distinct  and  ^^ermanent  form  in  the 
mind  for  a  considerable  time.  Feelings  have  a  fluidity 
that  involves  constant  change. 

(3)  The  states  readily  blend  together  and  form  com- 
pounds.— We  probably  never  have  exactly  the  same  com- 
bination of  feelings  in  any  two  hours  of  life.  The  exter- 
nal or  the  internal  factor  is  slightly  modified.  It  is 
difficult  to  analyze  any  given  state  into  its  constituents^ 
because  we  are  ever  exposed  to  the  danger  of  treating  a 
compound  state  as  if  it  were  simple.  For  this  reason  the 
names  which  we  apply  to  the  different  forms  of  feeling  do 
not  have  exactly  the  same  meaning  to  different  persons. 
Such  words  as  '^appetite/'  ^^joy/'  ''sorrow''  and  ''love" 
signify  to  each  person  just  what  his  experience  has  af 
forded  him^  and  this  is  exceedingly  variable. 

For  these  reasons^,  the  feelings  have  not  yet  received, 
and  probably  never  will  receive,  the  same  definite  and  sat- 
isfactory scientific  treatment  as  the  forms  of  knowledge. 

G.  E.  Lessing  (1729-1781),  the  illustrious  German  critic,  has  well 
stated  the  difficulties  that  lie  in  the  way  of  a  scientific  treatment  of 
the  feelings.  He  says  :  "  Nothing  is  more  deceitful  than  general 
laws  for  our  feelings.  Their  tissue  is  so  fine  and  complicated  that 
the  most  cautious  speculation  can  scarcely  seize  upon  any  single 
thread  and  f olkiw  it  througli  all  its  entanglements ;  and  if  we  could 
do  this,  what  should  we  gain?  There  is  in  nature  scarcely  any  one 
unmixed  feeling;  with  every  individual  one  a  thousand  others  spring 
Mp  at  the  same  time,  the  least  of  which  alters  entirely  the  ground  of 
the  feeling,  so  that  exceptions  grow  upon  exceptions,  which  end  iu 


224  PSYCHOLOGY. 

confining  the  presumed  general  i^riiiciple  to  the  experience  of  a  fe\< 
particular  instances."  ^ 


3.  A  Science  of  Sensibility  Possible. 

If  science  dealt  principally  with  differences,  we  could 
never  hoj^e  for  a  science  of  Sensibility,  but  it  deals  more 
largely  with  resemblances  than  with  differences.  There 
is  enough  in  the  phenomena  of  Sensibility  that  is  common 
to  all  human  souls,  to  j)ermit  of  the  scientific  discussion 
of  the  subject.  We  can  describe  the  modes  of  feeling, 
class  them  into  certain  general  groups,  explain  the  condi- 
tions under  which  they  are  experienced,  and  discover  the 
principal  laws  of  their  aj)pearance  and  modification.  The 
difficulties  of  the  subject  have,  however,  thus  far  pre- 
vented the  satisfactory  accomplishment  of  these  results, 
and  at  the  present  time  the  feelings  present  the  least 
developed  department  of  Psychology. 

Much  attention  has  recently  been  devoted  to  this  long-neglected 
province  of  the  soul.  Much  speculation  has  originated  in  Gern\any 
on  the  subject  of  "Esthetics,"  mainly  directed  toward  the  creation 
of  a  philosophical  theory  of  the  fine  arts;  but  even  in  Germany, 
where  this  branch  of  study  has  received  most  attention,  no  very  sat- 
isfactory scientific  investigation  of  the  feelings  in  the  broader  sense 
has  yet  been  accomplished.  The  Ethical  Sentiments  have  received 
a  certain  amount  of  study,  but  even  here,  although  this  field  is  so 
closely  connected  with  the  conduct  of  life,  the  scientific  results  have 
been  largely  colored  by  philosophical  assumptions  of  various  kinds 
and  much  impeded  by  a  want  of  co-ordination  with  other  forms  of 
feeling.  In  what  is  truly  valuable  our  own  literature  compares  fa- 
vorably with  that  of  other  countries,  and  in  recent  additions  displays 
a  remarkable  activity  in  the  cultivation  of  this  field.  Sir  Charles 
Bell  (1774-1842),  an  English  surgeon  and  anatomist,  led  the  way  in 
the  scientific  study  of  the  Emotions  in  his  "  Anatomy  and  Philoso- 
phy of  Expression."    Charles  Darwin  (1809-1882),  the  distinguished 


SENSIBILITY.  225 

naturalist,  continued  in  the  same  line  in  his  "  Expression  of  tlie 
Emotions  in  Man  and  Animals."  Herbert  Spencer  has  given  much 
attention  to  the  feelings.  Alexander  Bain  has  treated  the  subject 
extensively  and  originally  in  liis  book  on  "  The  Emotions  and  the 
Will."  Charles  Grant  Allen  (1848-  ),  a  Canadian  naturalist  and 
writer  resident  in  England,  has  produced  a  work  on  "  Pliysiological 
iEstheti-cs."  James  McCosh  has  written  a  volume  on  "The  Emo- 
tions." Nearly  all  the  recent  text-books  on  Psychology  include 
some  attempt  to  discuss  the  subject  of  Sensibility,  which  was  wholly 
neglected  in  most  of  the  earlier  treatises  intended  for  use  in  schools. 
A  great  number  of  articles  presenting  observations  and  hypotheses 
upon  the  subject  may  be  found  scattered  through  the  leading  peri- 
odicals. All  tliese  indications  point  to  a  growing  interest  in  this 
neglected  department  and  give  ground  for  hoping  that  it  will  not 
long  remain  the  chaos  which  it  has  been. 

4.  Characteristics  of  Sensibility. 

States  of  Sensibility^  or  feelings,  are  either  painful  or 
pleasurable.  It  is  impossible  to  define  pain  and  pleasnre 
except  by  negation  and  opposition.  Tliey  are  nltimate 
facts  of  experience  which  can  be  resolved  into  nothing 
simpler,  and  are  known  to  every  human  being  as  real  dis- 
tinctions. Every  one  knows  when  he  suffers  pain  or  en- 
joys pleasnre,  but  no  one  can  say  what  pain  and  pleasure 
are.  We  can,  however,  ascertain  under  what  conditions 
they  arise  in  consciousness,  and  so  discover  what  is  essen= 
tial  to  their  production. 

Bain  holds  that,  besides  painful  and  pleasurable  qualities,  a  feel- 
ing may  have  the  quality  of  indifference.  lie  says  :  "A  state  of 
feeling  may  have  considerable  intensity  and  yet  be  neutral.  Sur- 
prise is  a  familiar  instance.  Some  surprises  give  us  delight,  others 
cause  suffering,  but  many  do  neither ;  yet  in  all  cases  we  are  emo- 
tionally moved." 3  It  is  difficult  to  detect  this  alleged  "indiffer- 
ence" in  feeling.  There  may  be  a  condition  of  "surprise,"  that  is, 
a  perception  of  something   unexpected,  without  either  pleasure  ol 


226  PSYCHOLOGY. 

pain  and  also  without  feeling  of  anj^  kind.  If  there  is  feeling,  in 
any  definite  and  appreciable  sense,  it  must  be  either  agreeable,  that 
is  pleasurable,  or  disagreeable,  that  is  painful,  in  some  degree,  or  it 
would  not  be  appreciated  as  "feeling."  There  is  an  intellectual  as 
well  as  an  emotional  "surprise,"  and  it  seems  as  if  this  distinction 
had  been  overlooked.  Sully  and  many  others  reject  Bain's  idea  of 
an  "indifferent"  feeling.  He  says:  "By  feeling  is  meant  any  state 
of  consciousness  which  is  pleasurable  or  painful.  The  feelings  are 
pleasures  and  pains  of  all  sorts,  agreeable  and  disagreeable  states  of 
mind.  Every  feeling  is  either  pleasurable  or  painful,  agreeable  or 
disagreeable,  in  some  degree."  In  commenting  on  Bain's  doctrine, 
he  says:  "  It  may  be  questioned  whether  any  feeling  as  such  can  be 
indifferent."^  A  sense-impression,  however,  maybe  " indift'erent, " 
that  is,  without  the  quality  of  feeling,  as  when  we  are  conscious  of 
touching,  without  experiencing  either  pleasure  or  pain. 

5.   The  Quality  and  Quantity  of  Feelings. 

The  broadest  qualitative  distinction  of  feelings  is  into 
pleasures  and  pains.  Both  pleasures  and  pains  are  of  dif- 
ferent qualities,  varying  according  to  the  organ  or  faculty 
by  which  they  are  apprehended  and  the  causes  from  which 
they  proceed.  Regarded  as  to  quantity,  feelings  have 
massiveness,  or  amount,  and  intensity,  or  degree.  Thus, 
a  tooth-ache  may  be  very  intense,  without  being  very  mas- 
sive, while  a  pain  from  indigestion  may  be  massive  with- 
out being  very  intense.  Massiveness  has  relation  to  the 
area  of  feeling,  intensity  to  the  acuteness  of  it. 

6.  Division  of  the  Subject. 

Various  classifications  of  the  modes  of  Sensibility  have 
been  offered,  many  of  them  wholly  arbitrary  and  at  vari- 
ance with  the  use  of  language.  ^  We  shall  secure  a  divi- 
sion at  the  same  time  psychologically  exact,  adapted  to 
an  orderly  discussion,  and  in  harmony  with  the  accepted 


SENSIBILITY.  227 

use  of  words^  if  we  recognize  two  main  classes  of  feelings : 
(1)  physical  feelings,  having  a  definite  origin  in  the  bodily 
organism,  and  capable  of  reference  to  the  locality  where 
they  originate,  which  we  shall  call  Sensations  ;  and  (2) 
psychical  feelings,  having  their  origin  in  the  soul  itself 
on  the  presentation  of  certain  ideas,  and  not  capable  of 
being  located  in  any  part  of  the  organism,  which  we 
shall  call  Sentiments.  We  shall  now  proceed  to  con- 
sider separately  : 

(1)  Sensations  ;  and 

(2)  Senthnents. 

References  :  (1)  Dewey's  Psychology,  p.  23.  (2)  Lessing's  Lao- 
won  (Phillimore's  Translation),  p.  42.  (3)  Bain's  The  Emotioiis  and 
the  Will,  pp.  14,  15.  (4)  Sully's  Psychology,  p.  449.  See  also  Bain's 
defense  of  his  position  in  3Iind,  October,  1887,  pp.  576,  579.  (5)  For 
an  account  of  the  different  modes  of  classifying  the  feelings,  see 
Bain's  The  Emotions  and  the  Will,  Appendix  B.  Also  Mind,  April, 
18&4,  pp.  325,  348;  and  October,  1884,  pp.  509,  530. 


CHAPTEH    L 

SENSATIONS. 

CLASSIFICATION    OF   SENSATIONS. 

Sensations  are  the  feelings  wliicli  accompany  physical 
activity.  There  are  two  main  classes  of  sensations,  some 
being  mere  excitations,  without  involving  any  tendency 
to  do  anything ;  others  being  attended  with  appetency,  or  a 
tendency  to  seek  some  object  when  excited.  The  natural 
division  is,  then,  into  (1)  sensations  of  Simple  Sentience 
(from  the  Latin  seiitlre,  to  feel),  or  sensations  without 
any  appetency ;  and  (2)  sensations  of  Appetite  (from  the 
Latin  ad,  to,  and  pet  ere,  to  seek),  or  sensations  attended 
with  appetency.  These  two  classes  will  be  discussed  in 
the  following  sections. 


SEOTION  I. 

SIMPLE    SENTIENCE. 
1.  Kinds  of  Simple  Sentience. 

In  our  discussion  of  Sense-j^erception,  we  classiAefl  the> 
senses  as  Muscular,  Organic  and  Special  (pages  32,  33). 
Our  purpose  in  that  examination  was  to  discover  the  man- 
ner in  which  sensations  furnish  materials  for  knowledge, 


SENSATIONS,  229 

not  to  compare  tliem  as  modes  of  feeling  atf ording  pleasure 
and  pain.  Our  present  purpose  is  to  consider  them  as 
feelings^  not  as  materials  of  knowledge.  The  same  classi- 
fication will,  however,  serve  in  both  cases. 

(1)  Muscular  sentience  is  the  feeling  that  arises  from 
the  states  of  the  muscles.  It  is  sometimes  pleasurable 
and  sometimes  painful.  The  normal  exercise  of  the 
muscles  produces  an  agreeable  feeling,  while  disease  and 
over-use  produce  pain.  During  considerable  periods  of 
time,  the  muscles  afford  no  feelings  whatever,  and  we  are 
practically  unconscious  of  their  existence. 

After  rest  and  nourishment,  the  muscles  become  surcharged  with 
energy  and  demand  activity.  If  they  do  not  obtain  this,  a  sense  of 
uneasiness  follows.  If  they  do  obtain  it  and  it  is  too  much  pro- 
longed, a  different  feeling  arises,  indicating  need  of  repose.  These 
two  tendencies,  to  seek  activity  and  to  seek  repose,  according  to  the 
state  of  the  muscles,  are  really  appetites,  not  forms  of  simple  sen- 
tience. We  shall  consider  them  later  on.  The  simple  sensations 
are  those  forms  of  feeling  which  arise  when  the  muscles  are  in  activ- 
ity. They  are  pleasurable  or  painful,  according  to  the  degree  of  ex- 
ercise. So  long  as  the  vitality  is  not  overdrawn,  pleasure  accom- 
panies activity,  but  as  soon  as  the  energy  is  depleted  to  a  certain 
point, — possibly  at  the  point  where  the  repair  does  not  equal  the 
waste, — the  sensations  begin  to  be  painful,  and  continue  to  become 
more  and  more  painful  until  rest  is  obtained.  Any  one  may  try  this 
for  himself  by  a  simple  movement  of  the  arm,  which,  though  pleas- 
urable at  first,  if  continued,  becomes  painful  and  finally  unendur- 
able. 

(2)  Organic  sentience  arises  from  the  condition  of  the 
vital  organs,  such  as  the  heart,  the  stomach,  the  lungs, 
etc.  In  diseased  conditions  they  often  force  themselves 
upon  the  attention  and  completely  occupy  it.  A  person 
with  a  healthy  stomach  is  hardly  aware  by  his  feelings 
that  he  has  one,  while  the  dyspeptic  hardly  realizes  that 


230  PSYCHOLOGY. 

he  lias  any  other  organ.  Pleasure  in  any  high  degree  is 
not  afforded  by  these  organs,  but  pain  is  the  sign  that 
they  are  in  an  abnormal  condition. 

Wlicther  or  not  the  organic  sensations  were  provided  for  by  de- 
sign  in  the  constitution  of  our  bodily  organism,  they  certainly  serve 
an  important  purpose.  They  warn  us  of  disease.  The  health  and 
integrity  of  these  organs  are  necessary  to  the  proper  performance  of 
all  the  bodily  functions  and  ultimately  to  the  continuance  of  life. 
The  fact  that  pain,  not  pleasure,  is  the  usual  mode  of  their  sentient 
manifestation  in  consciousness,  is  evidence  of  a  preserving  purpose 
in  the  provisions  made  for  their  existence.  Thus  regarded,  pain  ib 
a  token  of  benevolence  in  the  plan  of  a  human  organism,  for  it  ap- 
pears simply  as  a  signal  of  warning,  and  never  attends  the  normal 
condition  and  exercise  of  the  body.  As  we  shall  see  in  our  study  of 
the  appetites,  pleasure  is  connected  with  those  organic  actions  which 
are  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  the  life  of  the  individual  and  of 
the  species.  The  mechanical  explanation  of  this  adjustment  of  pain 
and  pleasure  to  destructive  and  preservative  actions  breaks  down 
completely,  and  nothing  short  of  a  teleological  explanation  satisfies 
our  intelligence. 

(3)  Special  sentience  is  that  which  arises  from  the  spe- 
cial sense-organs,  and  is  the  concomitant  of  external  per- 
ception. As  we  have  seen  (page  26),  the  sensation  is  in 
an  inverse  ratio  to  the  perception.  There  is,  however,  a 
distinct  sensuous  pleasure  in  the  perceptive  use  of  the 
senses,  apart  from  the  intellectual  gratification.  Certain 
sounds,  colors,  forms,  and  odors  are  pleasing  in  a  high  de- 
gree, without  any  reference  to  the  knowledge  obtained 
from  them.  A  great  part  of  our  enjoyment  of  nature  is 
of  this  simple  sensuous  kind.  The  bird-songs,  the  autum- 
nal leaves,  the  cloud-castles,  and  the  scents  of  forest  and 
meadow,  even  when  not  regarded  as  elements  of  that  ideal 
beauty  which  the  Intellect  only  can  apprehend,  afford  us 
V  thrilling  delight.     On  the  other  hand,  the  senses  are 


SENSATION'S,  231 

pained  by  sounds,  sights,  and  odors  of  an  opposite  kind, 
not  so  agreeable  to  ^jarticularize,  but  equally  well  known. 

The  advocates  of  "Physiological  Esthetics"  attempt  to  explain 
our  entire  experience  of  beauty  and  sublimity  in  terms  of  organic 
action.  As  we  proceed  with  our  study  of  Sensibility,  we  shall  see 
many  reasons  for  rejecting  these  pretentious  endeavors,  but  at  this 
point  it  is  desirable  to  call  attention  to  the  inadequacy  of  any  merely 
mechanical  or  organic  action  to  explain  even  the  simplest  of  our 
sensations.  We  have  already  seen  that  there  is  a  great  interval  be- 
tween a  sense-impression  and  any  form  of  sense-knowledge  (page  40). 
We  have  also  seen  that  the  simplest  perception  requires  a  special 
psychical  reaction  (page  61).  In  like  manner,  the  transition  from  a 
sense-impression  to  a  simple  sensation  regarded  as  a  form  of  feeling, 
is  a  passage  from  a  mode  of  motion  to  a  mode  of  consciousness,  and 
requires  the  reaction  of  Sensibility.  Sensations,  whether  pleasurable 
or  painful,  are  not  results  generated  out  of  mere  motion,  but  require 
the  presence  of  a  recipient  endowed  with  Sensibility.  The  explana- 
tion of  a  sensation,  then,  does  not  lie  in  any  mode  of  organic  action, 
but  in  the  power  of  Sensibility  possessed  by  the  being  who  experi- 
ences the  sensation.  The  soul,  a  being  different  from  '*  matter  in 
motion,"  is  as  necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  rose  as  to  the  con- 
struction of  a  cathedral.  The  enjoyment  is  the  passive  reception 
of  a  passing  odor  and  the  construction  is  an  active  combination  of 
materials  in  complicated  and  original  forms,  but  "matter  in  mo- 
tion "  is  wholly  incapable  of  both. 


2.   Conditions  of  Simple  Sentience. 

There  are  certain  conditions  without  which  sentience 
does  not  take  place.  These  are  both  internal  and  external 
to  the  nervous  system. 

(1)  The  internal  conditions  are  the  health  and  integrity 
of  the  sensor  nerves.  If  a  nerve  be  severed,  no  sentience 
can  be  produced  by  the  excitation  of  the  area  of  the  body 
thus  cut  off  from  communication  with  the  brain.  There 
are  certain  parts  of  the  body  that  do  not  give  rise  to  senti- 


232  PSYCHOLOGY. 

eiice,  because  they  are  not  supplied  with  sensor  nerves. 
Thus,  the  hair  and  nails  are  not  furnished  with  nerves, 
and  oO  they  may  be  cut  off  without  causing  j^ain.  Some 
parts  of  the  brain  itself,  not  being  supplied  with  nerves  of 
sense,  may  be  cut  out  without  pain. 

(2)  The  external  conditions  are  the  a2323lication  of 
agents  adapted  to  excite  the  sensor  nerves  through  their 
terminal  organs  and  so  to  send  an  im2:)ression  to  the  brain, 
where  tlie  sentient  states  are  realized  in  consciousness  ; 
and  also  the  mechanical,  chemical,  and  vital  changes 
produced  in  the  tissues  of  the  body  itself  by  external 
causes. 

3.   Conditions  of  Pleasurable  Sentience. 

All  use  of  the  j)hysical  organism  involves  a  certain  de- 
struction of  tissue  and  thereby  necessitates  repair  to  make 
good  the  waste.  The  following  formula  of  pleasurable 
sentience  is  given  by  Grant  Allen  :  ''  Pleasure  is  the  con- 
comitant of  the  healthy  action  of  any  or  all  of  the  organs 
or  members  supplied  with  afferent  cerebro-spinal  nerves, 
to  an  extent  not  exceeding  the  ordinary  powers  of  repara* 
tion  possessed  by  the  system."  This  statement  may  be 
accepted  as  the  best  formula  that  can  now  be  given  of  the 
conditio7is  under  which  pleasure  arises  from  physical 
sensation.  It  must  not,  however,  be  accej^ted  as  a  defini- 
tion of  pleasure. 

Bain  has  formulated  the  connection  of  feelings  with  physical 
states  in  the  following  law:  "States  of  pleasure  are  concomitant 
with  an  increase,  and  states  of  pain  with  an  abatement,  of  some,  or 
all,  of  the  vital  functions."  ^  In  commenting  on  this  statement, 
Allen  says:  "If  pleasures  were  the  psychical  concomitants  of  an 
increase  of  some  of  the  vital  functions,  then  our  two  greatest,  if  not 


s:ei^sations.  233 

only,  pleasures  ought  to  be  digestion  and  repose  after  exertion-, 
whereas  these  are  really  only  minor  and  very  indefinite  pleasures."* 
He  then  continues,  after  stating  the  formula  cited  above,  "pleasure 
on  the  whole  is  chiefly  referable  to  a  healthy  state  of  the  organism 
generally,  one  in  which  every  part  is  enabled  to  perform  its  proper 
functions  unimpeded,  and  no  undue  call  is  made  upon  any  single 
organ  or  member.  .  .  .  And  if,  in  such  a  condition  of  body,  we  give 
free  play  to  all  the  activities  of  the  system,  nervous  and  muscular, — 
as  in  taking  a  morning  walk  on  a  sunny  day  in  spring,  after  a  good 
night's  rest  and  a  hearty  breakfast, — we  receive  a  massive  impression 
of  pleasure  which  corresponds  partially  [in  amount?]  to  the  massive 
discomfort  of  fatigue,  inanition  or  anasmia.  .  .  .  While  Professor 
Bain  refers  pleasure  to  an  increase  in  the  efficiency  of  the  organism, 
it  may  better  be  regarded  as  the  concomitant  of  a  normal  ainount  of 
activity  in  any  portion  or  the  whole  of  the  organism.  Or,  to  employ 
once  more  the  metaphor  of  the  steam-engine,  we  may  say  that 
pleasure  results,  not  from  the  act  of  coaling,  watering  or  oiling,  but 
from  the  harmonious  working  of  all  the  parts.  And,  as  all  activity 
implies  a  waste  of  tissue  (since  it  is  dynamically  equivalent  to  the 
passage  of  potential  into  kinetic  energy),  pleasure  is  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent concomitant  with  a  decrease  of  vital  function.  The  limit  at 
which  such  waste  of  tissue  ceases  to  be  pleasurable  and  begins  to  be 
painful  is,  I  believe,  the  point  where  the  waste  exceeds  the  ordinary 
powers  of  repair."  ^ 

4.  Conditions  of  Painful  Sentience. 

Painri  are  of  two  classes,  (1)  acute  and  (2)  massive.  An 
acute  pain  is  sharp  and  either  sudden  or  intermittent.  A 
massive  pain  is  dull  and  continuous.  The  pulling  of  a 
tooth  produces  acute  pain.  A  tooth-ache  also  is  some- 
times an  acute  pain,  frequently  felt  in  recurrent  throbs. 
A  head-ache  from  indigestion  is  usually  a  massive  pain, 
continuing  for  some  time.  Acute  pains,  as  a  class, 
accompany  the  action  of  destructive  agencies,  as  cuts, 
burns  and  bruises.  Massive  pains  usually  accompany  ex- 
cessive or  obstructed  functional  action,  as  when  one  strains 


^34  PSYCHOLOOT. 

tlie  muscles  by  over- use  or  confines  the  body  for  some  time 
to  one  position. 

*'  If  we  take  a  rapid  survey  of  the  principal  varieties  of  physical 
pain,  the  first  point  which  strilves  us  is  that  the  greater  part  of  them, 
and  especially  the  most  intense,  are  the  concomitants  of  a  violent 
dismemberment  in  some  one  of  the  tissues.  Of  all  pains  with  which 
we  are  acquainted,  the  strongest  are  those  which  accompany  the 
severance  of  an  actual  sensible  portion  of  the  body,  as  in  the  ampu- 
tation of  a  limb,  the  excision  of  an  ulcer,  or  the  removal  of  a  scalp. 
The  disruption  from  the  body  of  a  much  smaller  member  is  also  ex- 
tremely painful,  as,  for  example,  the  loss  of  a  nail  or  the  drawing  of 
a  tooth.  To  pinch  off  a  small  piece  of  skin  (below  the  epidermis)  or 
to  pull  out  a  hair  occasions  a  considerable  smart.  In  short,  to  tear 
or  cut  away  from  the  body  any  one  of  its  constituent  tissues  is  one 
3iost  conspicuous  cause  of  pain.  Again,  merely  to  sever  the  tissues 
without  actual  dismemberment  is  also  painful.  Take  as  instances 
wounds,  cuts,  pricks  and  scratches.  To  pare  or  break  the  nails  be- 
low the  quick,  to  pull  open  a  sore,  to  have  the  face  or  lips  chapped, 
are  other  similar  cases.  Disruption  of  tissue  is,  therefore,  a  second 
and  closely-allied  cause  of  pain.  Disintegration  of  any  part  of  the 
body  owing  to  causes  not  so  directly  mechanical  is  accompanied  by 
the  same  subjective  states :  as  in  burning  off  a  finger,  having  tlie 
%Qi  frozen  so  that  the  joints  drop  off,  destroying  the  skin  and 
muscles  with  a  corrosive  acid,  and  so  forth.  Like  mental  manifesta- 
tions occur  when  the  tissues  are  bruised,  crushed  or  broken.  Of  this 
we  have  every-day  experience  in  blows,  falls,  kicks  and  rubs.  Here 
we  can  easily  see  that  there  is  still  disintegration,  though  of  smaller 
tissues.  This  is  proved  by  the  concentration  of  blood  in  the  area  of 
disruption  which  causes  the  flesh  to  appear  'black  and  blue,'  and 
shows  that  the  delicate  epithelium  of  the  capillaries  has  been  broken 
and  an  extravasation  has  taken  place ;  by  the  weal,  raised  after  a 
smart  tap  from  a  whip ;  and  by  blisters  which  follow  friction  and 
testify  to  the  separation  of  the  skin  from  the  subjacent  tissues  by 
allowing  an  effusion  to  collect  in  the  interstice.  All  these  cases  arc 
produced  by  the  interference  of  external  bodies  with  the  organism. 
...  In  other  cases,  the  evidence  only  shows  a  tendency  to  disrup- 
tion rather  than  its  actual  presence.  Whenever  a  mass  of  connective 
tissue  is  exposed  to  a  violent  strain,  the  nerves  which  it  contains  are 


SENSATIONS.  235 

pinched  or  twisted  and  arouse  an  intensely  painful  sensation."  •*  In 
still  other  cases,  we  can  discover  a  decomposition  of  tissue,  as  in  the 
case  of  excessive  muscular  exertion,  or  an  insufficient  nutrition,  as  in 
the  case  of  nervous  debility,  as  the  accompaniments  of  pain.  Heriv 
also  there  is  molecular  disruption  in  the  tissues  of  the  body. 

5,  The  RaDge  of  Sensation. 

If  we  follow  the  rise  and  progress  of  any  particular 
sensation,  we  shall  discover  (1)  that  its  external  cause 
must  reach  a  certain  degree  of  intensity  before  the  ^'thresh- 
old of  consciousness "  is  readied,  that  is,  before  it  can 
produce  a  sensation  (page  GO).  If  the  sensation  continues 
to  increase  in  intensity,  we  find  (2)  that,  at  a  certain 
point,  there  is  a  transition  in  its  quality,  a  painful  sensa- 
tion becoming  pleasurable,  as  when  the  discomfort  caused 
by  a  dim  and  trying  light  gives  way  to  pleasure  when  the 
light  becomes  stronger  ;  or  a  pleasurable  sensation  becom- 
ing painful,  as  when  a  light  becomes  so  strong  as  to  dazzle 
and  hurt  the  eye.  This  transition  is  very  marked  in 
sensations  of  temperature.  Finally,  if  a  sensation,  pleas- 
urable at  first,  simply  continues,  without  change  of  in- 
tensity, we  find  (3)  that,  after  some  time,  its  duration 
alone  renders  it  disagreeable. 

In  the  sphere  of  sensations  of  sound,  for  example,  a  low,  almost 
indistinguishable  soujid  is  very  disagreeable.  When  it  becomes  a 
little  louder,  so  as  not  to  strain  the  attention,  it  loses  its  disagreeable 
quality.  But  when  it  becomes  very  loud  it  pains  the  ear.  A  very 
slight  stimulus  divides  the  consciousness  and  the  efforts  of  attention 
are  constantly  defeated.  The  soul  fails  to  find  an  object  for  its  in- 
terpretation. A  very  great  stimulation  overtaxes  the  powers  and 
occasions  pain.  Pleasure  results  only  from  the  moderate  stimula- 
tion of  the  sense-organ,  affording  satisfaction  to  the  interpreting 
power  and  still  not  producing  a  destructive  disturbance  in  the  organ. 
This  holds  of  all  the  senses. 


PSTCHOLOOT. 


6.  The  Laws  of  Pleasurable  Sensation. 

There  are  two  principles,  or  laws,  of  pleasurable  sensa- 
tion which  are  of  considerable  practical  importance. 
They  are  : 

(1)  The  Law  of  Variety. — When  any  sense-organ  ia 
over-taxed,  either  by  too  intense  or  too  prolonged  activity, 
the  sensations  become  disagreeable.  Hence,  variety  is 
necessary  to  a  pleasing  effect.  This  law  of  variety  fur- 
nishes an  important  principle  of  art,  in  so  far  as  art  appeals 
to  the  senses.  Monotony  of  tone,  form,  and  color  is  never 
pleasing.     It  must  be  broken  up  by  variety. 

(2)  The  Law  of  Harmony. — The  simultaneous  demand 
for  attention  in  many,  especially  in  opposite,  directions,  is 
disagreeable,  because  every  sensation  is  interrupted  before 
it  is  fully  realized.  Hence,  a  certain  harmony  is  necessary 
for  a  pleasing  effect.  Discordant  tones,  incongruous 
forms,  and  inharmonious  colors  are  even  more  disagree- 
able than  monotony.  Unity  is,  therefore,  an  important 
principle  of  art.  Some  have  held  that  the  whole  secret  of 
beauty  lies  in  variety  in  unity.  Of  merely  sensuous  beauty 
this  is  certainly  true,  but  we  shall  soon  see  that  ideal 
beauty  involves  much  more.  Variety  relieves  our  powers 
from  too  intense  and  prolonged  exertion,  while  harmony 
secures  unity  in  their  action. 

The  distinction  between  sensuous  and  ideal  beauty  is  a  real  and 
an  important  one.  It  will,  perhaps,  be  more  evident  when  we  have 
noted  more  precisely  the  difference  between  sensations  and  senti- 
ments, but  we  may  be  able  to  promote  the  apprehension  of  that 
difference  by  introducing  some  statements  here.  Certain  sounds, 
forms,  and  colors  are  pleasing  in  themselves,  wholly  apart  from  theii 
combinations  and  the  meaning  which  those  combinations   reveal. ' 


SENSATIONS.  23? 

Take,  for  illustration,  two  human  voices,  one  pure  and  soft,  the 
other  aspirate  and  metallic.  The  same  musical  note  sounded  by 
these  two  voices  will  affect  us  differently.  Take,  now,  the  moro 
pleasing  of  these  two  voices.  Let  it  begin  at  a  pleasing  note  and 
run  up  the  scale,  and  it  will  finally  reach  a  point  where  it  will  become 
disagreeable.  Such  isolated  tones  are  simply  sensuous  elements. 
They  have  a  beauty  of  their  own.  The  same  may  be  said  of  forms. 
There  are  ugly  and  there  are  pleasing  forms.  The  same  is  true  of 
colors.  All  these  constitute  elements  of  sensuous  beauty  in  the 
objects  which  possess  them.  Their  pleasing  quality  depends  upon 
their  adaptation  to  produce  a  normal  activity  in  the  sense-organs. 
Certain  tones  awaken  an  agreeable  stimulation  in  the  auditory 
organs.  Certain  lines,  particularly  curved  lines,  produce  an  easy 
and  diversified  activity  in  the  visual  organs,  uniting  variety  and 
harmony ;  while  others  require  abrupt  movements  or  a  continuous 
activity  in  one  direction.  Certain  colors  are  called  "  harmonious," 
as  blue  and  yellow,  red  and  green,  and  are  said  "to  go  well  to- 
gether." Such  combinations  are  sometimes  spoken  of  as  having  a 
"restful"  effect  upon  the  eye.  We  cannot  here  enter  upon  a  de- 
tailed explanation  of  these  relations,  but  inquiry  shows  that  such 
combinations  of  color  are  in  a  strict  and  literal  sense  ' '  restful, "  em- 
ploying now  this  now  that  portion  of  the  optic  organ.  Tliere  is, 
then,  a  sensuous  beauty,  or  beauty  that  appeals  to  the  senses. 
Milton  perceived  this  element  when  he  described  effective  poetry  as 
"Simple,  sensuous  Mid  passionate."  But  this  sensuous  element  is 
only,  as  it  were,  the  body  of  beauty.  The  idea,  the  product  of  the 
transforming  power  of  Intellect,  furnishes  the  ideal  element,  the 
soul  of  beauty.     To  this  we  shall  refer  in  a  subsequent  section. 


7.  The  Association  of  Sensations. 

We  have  seen  how  difficult  it  is  to  reproduce  sensations 
without  the  presence  of  the  objects  causing  them  (pages 
97,  98).  We  are  able,  however,  to  form  and  to  reproduce 
ideas  of  sensations.  These  are  never  quite  the  same  as 
the  sensations  themselves  (page  68).  Thus,  we  cannot 
produce  in  consciousness  a  sensation  of  a  tooth-ache  or  of 


238  PSTCIIOLOQT, 

the  scent  of  a  flower,  but  we  have  ideas  of  those  sensa- 
tions. Such  ideas  are  associated,  like  all  other  ideas,  and 
so  we  always  think  of  some  ex^jeriences  as  being  pleasant 
and  of  others  as  painful.  Hence,  certain  trains  of  ideas 
produce  pleasure  and  others  pain.  This  pleasure  and  this 
pain  are  ideal,  but  constitute  for  us  important  elements  of 
experience.  We  seek  the  pleasant  and  shun  the  painful, 
and  thus,  at  last,  through  association  of  feelings,  establish 
preferences  for  certain  objects  and  ideas,  and  dislikes  for 
others. 

Language  has  the  power  to  suggest  trains  of  associated  ideas  and, 
through  these,  to  stir  and  move  the  feelings.  Much  of  the  influence 
of  the  orator  and  the  poet  depends  upon  the  subtle  associations  con- 
nected with  our  sensuous  experience.  Observation  shows  that  the 
most  effective  orations  and  poems,  in  their  influence  upon  the  feel- 
ings, are  those  in  which  words  suggesting  sensations  abound.  This 
is  probably  the  origin  of  the  term  "  sensational,"  used  to  designate 
a  type  of  writing  and  speaking  that  depends  largely  upon  this  sensu- 
ous element  in  style  for  its  effects.  Hence,  one  of  the  definitions  oi 
the  "sensational  "  is,  "  done  for  effect."  While  our  rational  nature 
resents  being  thus  practiced  upon,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  ' '  ef- 
fect" sought  is  actually  produced  and  that  audiences  are  "stirred" 
and  "fired"  by  "words  that  burn." 

8.   Relation  of  Sensations  to  Education. 

The  relation  of  sensations  to  education  is  twofold  : 
(1)  sensations  furnish  a  basis  for  the  government  of  a 
child,  and  (2)  sensations  must  themselves  be  governed 
through  the  child's  higher  nature. 

(1)  Government  of  the  Child  through  his  Sensations. — 
All  government  begins  with  the  assum^jtion  that  ^min 
will  be  avoided  and  pleasure  will  be  sought.  The  child 
will  follow  the  line  of  least  resistance.     The  meaning  of 


SENSATIONS.  239 

punishment  is  pain  ;  the  meaning  of  reward  is  pleasure. 
At  firsts  the  only  sphere  of  either  pleasure  or  pain  for  a 
human  being  is  that  of  his  sensations.  Hence,  he  is 
primarily  governed  through  these  alone.  Most  legisla- 
tors hold  that  this,  which  is  unquestionably  true  of  all  at 
the  beginning,  never  ceases  to  be  true  of  the  majority  of 
men.  A  great  jurist  has  said,  "^^Man  is  the  subject  of  two 
sovereign  masters,  pain  and  pleasure."^  ^  The  first  gov- 
ernment, at  least,  must  be  corporal.  As  the  soul  ex- 
pands and  rises  into  the  sphere  of  psychical  pleasures  and 
pains,  the  government  should  rise  into  it  also.  If  it  does 
not,  the  subject  of  the  government  is  degraded.  A  being 
is  best  governed  on  his  highest  plane. 

(2)  Government  of  the  Sensations  through  the  Child. — 
A  point  is  reached  in  the  development  of  a  human  being 
when  the  process  of  governing  him  through  his  sensations 
should  pass  into  the  government  of  his  sensations  through 
his  higher  nature.  He  must  be  taught  obedience,  pa- 
tience and  fortitude.  He  can  no  longer  follow  the  line 
of  least  resistance  without  peril  of  degradation.  He  must 
obey,  although  obedience  requires  pain.  He  must  be  pa- 
tient, although  patience  involves  the  mastery  of  feeling.. 
He  must  be  firm,  although  suffering  accompanies  forti= 
tude.  Government  must  now  be  transferred  to  the  realm 
of  Reason  and  Conscience.  How  can  this  transfer  be 
made  ?  It  can  be  made  only  by  eliciting  a  consciousness 
of  the  superior  nature.  This  can  be  accomplished  by 
assuming  its  existence,  by  appealing  to  its  authority,  and 
by  administering  rewards  and  punishments  in  the  terms 
of  the  nobler  nature.  If  government  is  to  be  rational 
and  moral,  its  punishments  must  be  rational  and  mora] 
also. 


240  PSYCHOLOGY. 

lu  this  section,  on   "Simple   Seiitience,"  we  have 
considered  : — 

1,  Kinds  of  Simple  Sentience, 

2.  Conditions  of  Shnple  Sentience. 

3.  Conditions  of  I'leasurahle  Sentience, 

4,  Conditions  of  Painful  Sentience. 

5,  The  Range  of  Sensation. 

6.  The  Laivs  of  Pleasurable  Sensation. 

7.  The  Association  of  Sensations. 

8,  Relation  of  Sensations  to  Education, 

Eeferences  :  (1)  Bain's  TJie  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.  283. 
(2)  Grant  Allen's  Physiological  Esthetics,  p.  20.  (3)  Id.,  pp.  21, 
22.  (4)  Id.,  pp.  6,  7.  (5)  This  is  the  assumption  on  which  Jeremy 
Bentham  founds  his  Princij^les  of  Morals  and  Legislation. 


SECTION    II. 

APPETITE. 

1.    Appetite  Distinguished  from  Simple  Sentience. 

Appetite  is  distinguished  from  Simple  Sentience  by  two 
characteristics.     They  are  : 

(1)  Appetency,  which  is  a  tendency  to  seek  for  some 
object  or  to  joerf  orm  some  act  when  the  appetite  is  aroused. 
Thus,  the  apj)etite  of  hunger  inckides,  in  addition  to  the 
simple  sentience  of  innutrition,  the  tendency  to  seek  and 
devour  food.  Provision  is  made  in  our  constitution  for  a 
certain  activity  whenever  the  appetite  is  aroused.  This 
activity  is  not  an  effort  of  intelligence  but  an  inborn  im- 
Dulse,  or  instinct. 

(2)  Periodicity,  which  attends  all  the  appetites,  while 


SENSATIONS.  241 

simple  sentience  is  merely  occasional.  It  seems  to  be 
governed  by  a  law  of  the  organism  itself.  Hunger,  for 
example,  returns  at  intervals  more  or  less  regular,  accord- 
ing to  habit.  If  the  habit  of  taking  food  is  regular,  the 
period  is  quite  uniform. 

The  difference  between  appetite  and  instinct  should  be  noted. 
It  is  well  drawn  by  Mark  Hopkins  (1802-1887):  "The  appetite 
craves,  instinct  directs.  The  appetite  is  presentative,  the  instinct  is 
regulative."  ^  It  may  be  added  that  this  direction  is  a  blind,  not  a 
consciously  intelligent,  direction.  Appetite  makes  us  conscious  of  a 
need,  instinct  directs  us  how  to  supply  it.  It  implies  a  correlation 
of  means  and  ends,  but  it  is  not  a  rational  correlation  resulting  from 
our  intelligence.  The  nature  of  instinct  will  be  more  explicitly  dis- 
cussed in  another  connection. 

Appetite  must  not  be  identified  with  feeling  as  a  mere  incentive 
to  action.  Bain  says:  "If  a  spur  to  action  were  to  constitute  ap- 
petite, all  our  pains  and  pleasures  would  come  under  this  designa- 
tion. But  the  appetites  commonly  considered  are  a  select  class  of 
feelings,  and  are  circumscribed  by  the  following  property — namely, 
that  tliey  are  the  craviiigs  produced  by  the  '^ecurring  ivants  and 
necessities  of  our  bodily,  or  organic,  life."  ^ 

2.  Natural  Appetites. 

The  following  are  the  most  definitely  marked  natural 
appetites  : 

(1)  Hunger. — The  waste  of  the  bodily  tissues  requires  to 
be  constantly  repaired  by  food,  which  supplies  new  ma- 
terials for  assimilation.  The  securing  of  food  is,  for  the 
higher  organisms,  a  complicated  act  requiring  the  direct- 
ing power  of  mind.  The  conscious  craving  leads  us  to 
provide  food  which,  when  before  us,  we  instinctively 
appropriate  to  the  needs  of  the  body.  Instinct  teaches  us 
what  we  need,  intelligence  enables  us  to  j^i'ocnrc  it.  As 
the  organs  for  the  reception  of  food  are  of  limited  capacity, 


242  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  supply  has  to  be  taken  after  short  intervals,  so  that 
the  craving  for  food  becomes  periodic. 

"In  the  case  of  hunger,  as  in  most  of  the  appetites,  there  is  a 
double  spur  to  the  taking  of  food;  first,  the  stimulus  of  uneasiness, 
and  next  the  impulse  arising  out  of  the  pleasure  of  eating.  It  is  well 
understood  that  these  two  things  are  quite  different,  and  on  their 
difference  hangs  the  whole  art  of  refined  cookery.  Very  plain  food 
would  satisfy  the  craving  for  nutrition,  but  there  is  a  superadded 
pleasure  which  we  have  to  cater  for.  The  one  is  the  appetite  in  its 
strictest  signification  and  as  found  in  the  lower  animals ;  the  other 
we  may  call  a  desire,  because  it  supposes  the  remembrance  and 
anticipation  of  positive  pleasure,  like  the  desire  for  music  or  for 
knowledge."^  The  appetite  proper  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  sensa- 
tions ;  as  desire,  it  is  the  concomitant  of  certain  ideas.  The  inter- 
relation of  appetite,  consciousness,  and  instinct  becomes  clear  the 
moment  we  consider  their  dependence.  If  there  were  no  conscious 
craving,  the  intelligence  could  not  be  brought  to  minister  to  the 
preservation  of  the  body.  If  there  were  no  instinctive  tendency  to 
seek  food,  the  intelligence  would  merely  know  itself  as  the  subject 
of  a  craving  without  direction  toward  the  needed  object.  Instinct 
directs  the  conscious  craving  toward  its  object  and  intelligence  de- 
vises means  of  procuring  it. 

(2)  Thirst. — This  appetite  hardly  needs  to  be  distin- 
guished from  hunger,  for  it  is  simply  the  craving  for 
liquid  food.  It  is  more  imperative  than  the  appetite  for 
solid  food,  and  demands  more  frequent  satisfaction. 

(3)  Suffocation. — This  is  the  appetite  for  air.  The 
lungs  are  the  organs  in  which  the  blood  receives  its 
supply  of  oxygen  and  through  which  carbonic  acid  gas  is 
emitted.  They  demand  a  constant  supply  of  pure  air. 
If  for  any  cause  it  is  withheld,  a  jminful  feeling  is  pro- 
duced and  the  organs  seek  their  needed  su23ply  by  rapid 
gasping,  whereby  they  extract  from  the  air  a  larger  pro' 
portion  of  oxygen. 


SENSATIONS.  243 

** Observe  a  man  threatened  with  suffocation:  remark  the  sudden 
and  wild  energy  that  pervades  every  feature ;  the  contractions  of  the 
throat,  the  gasping  and  the  spasmodic  twitchings  of  his  face,  the 
heaving  of  his  chest  and  shoulders,  and  how  he  stretches  his  hand 
and  catches  like  a  drowning  man.  These  are  efforts  made  under  the 
oppressive  intolerable  sensation  at  his  heart;  and  the  means  which 
nature  employs  to  guard  and  preserve  the  animal  machine,  giving  to 
the  vital  organ  a  sensibility  that  excites  to  the  utmost  exertion."-* 

(4)  Weariness. — This  is  the  craving  for  a  new  supply 
of  energy  consequent  upon  the  exhaustion  of  the  amount 
previously  possessed.  It  is  a  tendency  to  seek  repose  and 
sleep.  Sometimes,  however,  sleep  is  rendered  impossible 
by  the  degree  of  exhaustion.  The  weariness  occasions  an 
excitation  that  prevents  sleep.  Muscular  exhaustion,  un- 
less positively  painful,  usually  induces  sleep,  but  nervous 
exhaustion  may  so  excite  the  system  as  to  induce  wake- 
fulness. 

*'  The  fact  of  periodic  recurrence  is  in  no  case  more  strikingly  ex- 
emplified than  in  sleep.  After  a  certain  period  of  waking  activity, 
there  supervenes  a  powerful  sensation  of  repose.  If  we  give  way  to 
it  at  once,  the  state  of  sleep  creeps  over  us  and  we  pass  through  a 
few  moments  of  agreeable  repose  into  unconsciousness.  If  we  are 
prevented  from  yielding  to  the  sleepy  orgasm,  its  character  as  an 
appetite  is  brought  out  into  strong  relief.  The  voluminous  uneasi- 
ness that  possesses  all  the  muscles  and  organs  of  sense,  stimulates  a 
strong  resistance  to  the  power  that  keeps  us  awake ;  the  uneasiness 
and  the  resistance  increasing  with  the  continued  refusal  of  the  per- 
mission to  sleep,  until  the  condition  becomes  intolerable,  or  until  the 
reaction  ensues,  which  drives  off  the  drowsiness  for  some  time  longer. 
The  overpowering  influence  of  drowsiness  is  well  seen  in  infants."  ^ 

(5)  Restlessness. — This  is  the  opposite  of  weariness. 
It  is  the  appetite  for  activity.  When  the  supply  of  energy- 
is  superabundant,  there  is  a  craving  for  an  opportunity  to 
work  it  off.     It  is  shown  in  the  playfulness  of  children 


244  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  all  young  animals.  Persons  accustomed  to  any  form 
of  exercise  or  of  excitement  find  themselves  wretched 
when  the  suj^ply  of  surplus  energy  accumulates  without 
the  accustomed  opportunity  for  expending  it.  Action  and 
companionship  are  then  demanded^  and  through  them 
relief  is  afforded. 

We  have  no  word  in  the  English  language  to  express  precisely 
what  is  meant  by  the  French  word  "ennui."  It  is  a  state  of  de- 
pression from  having  nothing  to  do,  and  the  French,  characteristic- 
ally vivacious  and  active,  have  found  this  name  for  it.  It  is  a  com- 
mon experience  whenever  there  is  little  to  occupy  the  attention.  The 
silence  of  the  country  is  disagreeable  to  those  who  are  accustomed  to 
the  noises  of  the  city,  unless  they  find  compensation  in  the  charms  of 
nature.  Every  sense-organ  demands  its  accustomed  stimulation. 
Silence  and  solitude  are  enjoyed  only  by  those  minds  which  have  an 
activity  of  their  own  independent  of  sense-impressions.  The  thought- 
ful and  reflective  can  be  their  own  companions. 

(6)  Sexual  Passion. — This  is  one  of  the  most  potent 
appetites.  When  united  with  other  feelings  of  a  higher 
order,  such  as  the  aesthetic  appreciation  of  beauty,  the 
desire  for  congenial  companionship,  the  appreciation  of 
home,  the  tenderness  of  personal  affection,  and  the  moral 
sentiments  that  arise  from  the  sacred  relation  of  marriage, 
it  becomes  the  bond  of  society  and  a  potent  factor  of 
civilization.  It  is  the  one  human  appetite  which  demands 
another  human  being  for  its  satisfaction,  and  hence  has  a 
peculiar  moral  and  social  character. 

3.  Acquired  Appetites. 

We  have  treated  thus  far  of  the  natural  appetites 
These  are  implanted  by  nature  in  the  organization  of  man. 
for  his  preservation.     There  are,  however,  other  appetites 


s:ensations.  245 

which  are  acquired.  The  most  common  forms  of  acquired 
appetites  are  those  which  liave  for  their  end  the  artificial 
stimulation  of  the  nervous  system.  Tobacco,  alcohol,  and 
opium  are  the  favorite  drugs  employed  for  this  purpose. 
At  first  they  affect  the  system  disagreeably,  but  after  a 
time  the  stimuLation  which  they  afford  becomes  an  object 
of  desire.  The  use  of  such  drugs  finally  creates  a  periodic, 
and  in  many  cases  an  almost  incessant,  demand. 

The  use  of  a  stimulant  is  within  the  sphere  of  voluntary  action ; 
the  effect  it  produces  is  wholly  beyond  this  sphere.  An  acquired 
appetite  is  not  always  so  much  the  result  of  an  act  of  Will  as  it  is  the 
result  of  physical  action.  One  who  begins  the  use  of  stimulants 
seldom  intends  to  acquire  a  dominating  appetite,  lie  is  usually 
astonished,  possibly  distressed,  when  he  first  discovei-s  that  he  is  in 
bondage  to  it.  He  tries  to  escape  responsibility  by  saying  he  never 
intended  to  become  a  slave  to  his  appetite.  The  psychological 
history  of  a  destructive  appetite  usually  involves  no  psychical  action 
whatever,  simply  inaction.  Not  to  resist,  is  to  surrender;  to  sur- 
render, is  to  permit  the  soul  to  become  the  slave  of  the  body.  Here, 
as  everywhere,  "Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty."  Thf» 
craving  for  alcohol  requires  no  voluntary  act  to  establish  it  as  a  dis- 
ease beyond  all  control  and  beyond  all  cure.  If  not  positively 
forbidden  to  act,  the  physical  cause  accomplishes  its  effect  as  inevi- 
tably in  the  brain  as  in  a  test-tube.  The  only  security  is  in  keeping 
the  cause  so  far  from  the  body  that  its  properties  do  not  affect  it. 

4.  Inherited  Appetites. 

Appetites  acquired  by  one  generation  are  sometimes 
transmitted  to  following  generations,  having  all  the  force 
of  natural  appetites.  There  is  evidence  that  acquired 
peculiarities  of  natural  appetite,  such  as  craving  for  cer= 
tain  particular  kinds  of  food,  are  capable  of  inheritance. 
The  artificial  appetites  are  also  transmitted,  though  fre- 
quently in  a  somewhat  modified  form.     Whoever  creates 


246  PSYCEOLOQY. 

an  artificial  appetite  affects  his  posterity  as  well  as  himself. 
Although  he  may  limit  indulgence  within  what  he  may 
consider  the  bounds  of  moderation^  he  can  have  no  assur- 
ance that  all  who  derive  the  aj^petite  from  him  will  have 
this  power  of  control  also. 

"  The  passion  known  as  dipsomania,  or  alcohoHsm,  is  so  frequently 
transmitted  that  all  are  agreed  in  considering  its  heredity  as  the  rule. 
Not,  however,  that  the  passion  for  drink  is  always  transmitted  in 
that  identical  form,  for  it  often  degenerates  into  mania,  idiocy  and 
hallucination.  Conversely,  insanity  in  the  parents  may  become 
alcoholism  in  the  descendants.  This  continual  metamorphosis 
plainly  shows  how  near  passion  comes  to  insanity,  how  closely  the 
successive  generations  are  connected,  and,  consequently,  what  a 
weight  of  responsibility  rests  on  each  individual.  'A  frequent  effect 
of  alcoholism,'  says  Dr.  Magnus  Huss,  'is  partial  or  total  atrophy  of 
the  brain ;  the  organ  is  reduced  in  volume,  so  that  it  no  longer  fills 
the  bony  case.  The  consequence  is  a  mental  degeneration,  which  in 
the  progeny  results  in  lunatics  and  idiots.'  "  ^ 

5.   The  Control  of  Appetite. 

Man  is  the  only  animal  who  has  the  intelligence  to  make 
the  pleasure  afforded  in  the  gratification  of  appetite  a  dis- 
tinct object  of  pursuit.  He  does  this  through  his  power 
of  conception,  by  which  he  forms  a  concept  of  pleasure  as 
an  end  of  effort  and,  accordingly,  makes  '^provision  for 
the  flesh,  to  fulfill  the  lusts  thereof.^'  The  animals  less 
intelligent  than  man,  not  possessing  this  power,  do  not 
pursue  pleasure  as  an  end  ;  but,  when  their  apj^etites  are 
satisfied,  are  content  to  await  their  natural  return.  Man's 
intelligence  was  given  him  as  a  guide,  not  as  a  servant  of 
artificial  appetite.  He  can  use  it  for  its  natural  end,  the 
discovery  of  truth,  or  he  can  jiervert  it  for  self-gratifica- 
tion.    He  realizes  his  dignity  as  a  personal  being  only 


SilNSATtONS.  247 

when  he  governs  his  appetites  by  the  laws  of  Reason  and 
Conscience,  and,  as  a  rational  master,  refuses  to  surrender 
himself  to  a  sensuous  slavery. 

In  the  lower  animals,  it  is  believed,  appetite  has  a  general  trust- 
worthiness. It  certainly  is  not  so  in  man.  Error  is  more  common 
than  accuracy  in  the  blind  impulses  of  mere  appetite.  Almost  all 
medicines,  which  science  prescribes,  appetite  rejects.  It  is,  indeed, 
possible  that  appetite  is  often  right  in  its  protests  against  medica- 
ments, but  certainly  we  cannot  claim  that  appetite  is  a  safe  criterion. 
Whence  this  distinction  between  the  appetites  of  man  and  the  lower 
animals?  It  may  be  attributed  partly  to  the  presence  of  acquired 
and  inherited  api)etites  in  man,  partly  to  his  concept  of  the  pleasur- 
able as  the  end  of  appetite,  partly  to  a  purpose  that  he  should  be 
compelled  to  employ  his  intelligence  where  the  mere  animal  is  served 
by  instinct. 


6.  Relation  of  Appetite  to  Education. 

Appetite  has  two  important  practical  bearings  upon 
education :  (1)  as  affording  a  serious  impediment  to 
mental  improvement,  and  (2)  as  furnishing  opportunity 
for  strengthening  the  power  of  self-control. 

(1)  Appetite  as  an  Impediment  to  Education. — We  have 
only  to  reflect  a  little  to  see  that  the  appetites  are  obstruc- 
tions to  the  development  of  the  mental  powers.  All 
mental  application,  beyond  what  is  purely  spontaneous, 
is,  at  first  and  apart  from  its  fruits,  disagreeable.  The 
sensations  of  weariness  and  restlessness  must  be  put  out  of 
consciousness  before  much  reflection  can  be  accomplished. 
These  sensations  absorb  the  attention  and  distract  it  from 
the  process  of  learning.  The  child  must  be  made  to  sit 
still,  to  forget  his  body,  and  to  attend  to  the  teacher's 
words.  It  is  a  struggle  of  mind  against  matter.  It  never 
wholly  ends  and  the  mind  is  never  the  complete  victor. 


248  PSYCHOLOGT. 

The  spontaneous  activities  of  the  child  may  be  summed 
up  under  tlie  word  "■  phiy  "  ;  the  reflective  efforts,  under 
the  word  ''study."  Play  is  easier  than  study,  because 
play  calls  out  action  along  established  lines  of  least  resist- 
ance, while  study  involves  a  new  kind  of  action.  The 
partial  victory  that  mind  wins  over  the  body  is  won  only 
gradually  and  by  ingenious  devices  and  much  patience 
on  the  part  of  the  teacher.  How  to  abstract  the 
child's  attention  from  his  body  and  fix  it  upon  his  work, 
is  tlie  problem  which  the  teacher  of  children  has  to 
solve. 

(2)  Appetite  and  Self-control. — The  animal  cannot 
study,  because  it  has  no  power  over  its  appetites.  It  lives 
in  the  periodic  round  of  its  sensations  and  has  no  power  to 
appreciate  motives  above  them.  The  child  also  is  inca- 
pable of  self -directed  study  until,  by  development,  he 
comes  to  the  exercise  of  his  suj^erior  jDOwers.  When  he 
can  separate  the  future  from  the  present  and  appreciate 
the  meaning  of  ideas,  he  becomes  capable  of  controlling 
his  activities,  and  by  an  act  of  Will  withdraws  attention 
from  his  j^hysical  cravings  and  directs  it  to  facts  and 
principles.  Every  victory  over  his  appetites  strengthens 
his  power  of  self-control.  Finally,  he  can  study  even 
when  his  brain  is  weary  and  can  quiet  his  restless  muscles. 
But  this  triumph  is  merely  relative.  The  majority  win  a 
very  imperfect  victory.  Only  a  fcAV  obtain  a  high  degree 
of  self-mastery.  None  are  completely  liberated  from  the 
conditions  of  organic  appetency.  Physical  cravings  set 
limits  to  all  higher  activity,  and  the  bodily  life  demands 
that  the  natural  appetites  shall  have  their  normal  indulg- 
ence. If  they  do  not  receive  it,  the  body  enters  its  pro- 
test in  disease. 


SENSATIONS.  249 

In  this  section,  on  "Appetite,"  we  have  considered  : 

1,  Appetite  Distingulslied  front  Sutiple  Sentience, 

2,  Natural  Appetites, 

3,  AcquiTed  Appetites, 
4:,   Inherited  Appetites, 

5,  The  Control  of  A2)2)etite. 

6,  The  Relation  of  Ap2)etite  to  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Mark  Hopkins'  Outline  Study  of  3Ian,  p.  205. 
(2)  Bain's  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.   240.      (3)  Id.,  p.  243. 

(4)  Sir  Charles  Bell's  Anatomy  and  Philosophy  of  Exiwession,  p.  91. 

(5)  Bain's  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.  241.    (6)  Ribot's  Heredity^ 
pp,  85,  86. 


CHAPTER    tl. 

SENTIMENTS. 

THE  THREE   CLASSES   OF  SENTIMENTS. 

Sentiments  are  of  three  kinds  :  (1)  Emotions,  which  are 
feelings  of  internal  excitement  in  the  soul,  and  might  be 
called  ''  commotions  ^^  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  they 
have  a  tendency  to  discharge  themselves  outwardly  by 
physical  expression  ;  (2)  Desires,  which  are  feelings  of 
internal  craving  in  the  soul,  demanding  something  for 
their  satisfaction  ;  and  (3)  Affections,  which  are  feelings 
of  internal  fullness  in  the  soul,  going  forth  toward  some 
object  outside  of  self,  on  account  of  some  quality  in  the 
object.  Each  of  these  forms  of  sentiment  will  be  con- 
sidered in  a  separate  section,  to  be  followed  by  a  discussion 
of  the  Development  of  Sensibility. 


SECTIOIT    L    • 

EMOTION. 
1.  Tlie  Nature  of  Emotion. 

Emotion  (from  the  Latin  e,  out  of,  and  movere,  to  move) 
is  an  excitation  in  the  soul  arising  through  the  apprehen- 
sion of  ideas  and  tending  to  find  outward  expression.  It 
differs  from  sensation,  as  all  sentiments  do,  in  having  a 


SENTIMENTS.  251 

psycliical  ratlier  than  a  physical  origin.  It  is  distingnished 
from  other  sentiments  in  tending  to  express  itself  out- 
wardly, as  in  laughter  or  tears.  Desire,  on  the  other 
liand,  is  an  internal  craving.  Affection  is  like  emotion 
in  being  an  internal  fullness,  but  has  a  definite  outward 
object,  while  emotion  has  not.  We  may  best  illustrate 
these  differences  by  typical  examples.  Grief  is  an  emotion, 
consisting  in  a  general  disturbance  of  a  painful  kind  in 
the  soul,  usually  caused  by  the  loss  of  some  dear  object 
and  tending  to  express  itself  in  sadness  of  countenance 
and  tears.  Ambition  is  a  desire,  consisting  in  a  craving 
for  the  possession  of  power,  a  state  of  uneasiness  which  is 
not  ended  until  the  craving  is  satisfied.  Pity  is  an  affec- 
tion, being  a  state  of  interest  in  the  distress  of  another,  a 
fullness  that  goes  out  toward  a  definite  object.  These  out- 
line distinctions  will  be  more  clearly  apprehended  as  we 
proceed  to  discuss  the  various  forms  of  sentiment. 


2.   The  Expression  of  Emotion. 

While  it  is  not  essential  to  the  existence  of  emotion  that 
it  should  be  exjiressed,  all  emotion  tends  to  find  expres- 
sion. An  emotion  and  its  expression  must  not,  however, 
be  identified.  An  emotion  is  a  form  of  consciousness. 
The  expression  of  an  emotion  is  a  movement,  or  series  of 
movements,  in  the  physical  organism.  The  visible  move- 
ment in  the  organism  is  certainly  not  the  cause  of  the 
emotion,  but  its  effect.  The  emotion  itself  cannot  be 
localized  in  any  part  of  the  body,  as  a  sensation  can,  but 
is  simply  a  conscious  state.  Grief,  for  example,  is  such  a 
state.  Tears  and  facial  contractions,  the  expressive  signs 
of  grief,  are  physical  effects.     The  soul  reacts  upon  the 


252  PSYCHOLOGY. 

body  involuntarily  and  sets  in  motion  the  motor  meclian- 
ism.  How  a  conscious  state  can  produce  a  physical 
change  is  quite  as  much  beyond  our  knowledge  as  how  a 
physical  movement  can  produce  a  state  of  consciousness 
in  an  act  of  Sense-perception.  The  particular  forms  of 
expression  will  be  noted  in  connection  with  the  descrip- 
tion of  each  emotion. 

Darwin  has  attempted  to  account  for  the  phenomena  of  expression 
by  the  supposition  that  they  are  results  of  organic  action,  without 
reference  to  expression  as  a  special  end  or  purpose.  He  refers  the 
various  forms  of  expression  to  the  following  three  principles  : 

I.  "  The  principle  of  serviceable  associated  Habits.— Certain 
complex  actions  are  of  direct  or  indirect  service  under  certain  states 
of  tlie  mind,  in  order  to  relieve  or  gratify  certain  sensations,  desires, 
etc. ;  and  whenever  the  same  state  of  mind  is  induced,  however 
feebly,  there  is  a  tendency  through  the  force  of  habit  and  association 
for  the  same  movements  to  be  performed,  though  they  may  not  then 
be  of  the  least  use.  Some  actions  ordinarily  associated  through 
habit  with  certain  states  of  the  mind  may  be  partially  repressed 
through  the  Will,  and  in  such  cases  the  muscles  which  are  least  under 
the  separate  control  of  the  Will  are  the  most  liable  still  to  act,  caus- 
ing movements  which  we  recognize  as  expressive.  In  certain  other 
cases  the  checking  of  one  habitual  movement  requires  other  slight 
movements;  and  these  are  likewise  expressive. 

II.  "  The  principle  of  Antithesis.— Certain  states  of  the  mind  lead 
to  certain  habitual  actions  which  are  of  service,  as  under  our  first 
principle.  Now  when  a  directly  opposite  state  of  mind  is  induced, 
there  is  a  strong  and  involuntary  tendency  to  the  performance  of 
movements  of  a  directly  opposite  nature,  though  these  are  of  no  use ; 
and  such  movements  are  in  some  cases  highly  expressive. 

III.  "The  principle  of  actions  due  to  the  constitution  of  the 
Nervous  System,  independently  from  the  first  of  the  Will,  and  inde- 
pendently to  a  certain  extent  of  Habit. — When  the  sensorium  is 
strongly  excited,  nerve-force  is  generated  in  excess  and  is  transmitted 
in  certain  definite  directions,  depending  on  the  connection  of  the 
nerve-cells  and  partly  on  habit;  or  the  supply  of  nerve-force  may,  as 
it  appears,  be  interrupted.     Effects  are  thus  produced  which  we 


SENTIMENTS.  253 

recognize  as  expressive.  This  third  principle  may,  for  the  sake  of 
brevity,  be  called  that  of  the  direct  action  of  the  nervous  system."  ^ 
No  one  can  doubt,  after  reading  Darwin's  explanatory  chapters, 
that  these  three  principles  explain  many  of  the  expressive  actions  of 
both  man  and  animals.  Design  is  not,  however,  clearly  excluded 
from  that  constitution  of  the  nervous  system  which  renders  certain 
expressive  movements  possible.  There  is  no  disproof  of  Sir  Charles 
Bell's  view  "that  man  has  been  created  with  certain  muscles 
specially  adapted  for  the  expression  of  his  feelings."  That  certain 
muscles  are  so  adapted,  there  is  no  doubt.  It  would  require  great 
boldness  to  affirm  that  they  were  not  intended  to  be  so. 


3.   The  Production  of  Emotion. 

Emotion  is  produced  as  the  accompaniment  of  certain 
ideas.  A  telegraphic  dispatch  is  the  occasion  of  joy  or 
sorrow,  according  to  the  ideas  it  conveys ;  and  through 
these  it  produces  the  most  opposite  physical  effects.  The 
cause  of  the  difPerence  is  certainly  not  any  physical  attri- 
bute of  the  telegraphic  dispatch.  The  writing  on  the 
palmer  produces  no  effect,  except  upon  a  mind  that  under- 
stands its  contents,  that  is,  the  emotion  is  produced  only 
as  the  concomitant  of  ideas.  The  poet  and  the  orator  do 
not  awaken  emotion  by  telling  us  that  we  ought  to  have  a 
certain  kind  of  feeling,  or  by  advancing  arguments  to 
prove  that  it  is  suitable.  They  present  certain  ideas 
which  awaken  the  desired  emotion  as  their  spontaneous 
accompaniment.  Ideal  presence  is  the  condition  of  emo- 
tion. The  objects  to  which  the  ideas  relate  may  be  real 
or  unreal ;  the  effect  is  the  same,  if  we  surrender  our- 
selves to  the  illusion.  If  a  real  sight  would  make  us 
sad,  a  vivid  description,  even  though  it  be  fictitious,  will 
have  a  similar  effect.  The  emotion  arises  as  an  inex- 
plicable accompaniment  of   certain   ideas.      Imagination 


254  PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  the  idealizing  activity  which  produces  emotions  by 
creating  the  ideas  which  they  accompany.  It  is^  tliere- 
fore,  in  a  special  sense,  the  faculty  of  the  poet  and  the 
orator. 

William  James  has  advanced  the  doctrine  that  an  emotion  is 
identical  with  the  feeling  of  the  bodily  changes  by  which  it  is  ex- 
pressed. ^  He  admits,  however,  that,  according  to  common  sense,  we 
first  feel  an  emotion  and  afterward  experience  its  bodily  expression. 
While  the  majority  of  mankind  will,  probably,  continue  to  accept 
the  verdict  of  common  sense,  it  is  certainly  true  that  a  particular 
emotion  may  be  produced  by  actions  expressive  of  the  emotion. 
As  he  forcibly  says:  "Every  one  knows  how  a  panic  is  increased  by 
flight  and  how  the  giving  way  to  the  symptoms  of  grief  or  anger  in- 
creases those  passions  themselves.  Each  fit  of  sobbing  makes  the 
sorrow  more  acute  and  calls  forth  another  fit  stronger  still,  until  at 
last  repose  only  ensues  with  lassitude  and  with  the  apparent  exhaus- 
tion of  the  machinery.  In  rage,  it  is  notorious  how  we  '  work  our- 
selves up '  to  a  climax  by  repeated  outbreaks  of  expression.  Refuse 
to  express  a  passion  and  it  dies.  Count  ten  before  venting  your 
anger,  and  its  occasion  seems  ridiculous.  "Whistling  to  keep  up 
courage  is  no  mere  figure  of  speech.  On  the  other  hand,  sit  all  day 
in  a  moping  posture,  sigh,  and  reply  to  everything  with  a  dismal 
voice,  and  your  melancholy  lingers.  There  is  no  more  valuable  pre- 
cept in  moral  education  than  this,  as  all  who  have  experience  know : 
if  we  wish  to  conquer  undesirable  emotional  tendencies  in  ourselves, 
we  must  assiduously,  and  in  the  first  instance  cold-bloodedly,  go 
through  the  outward  motions  of  those  contrary  dispositions  we  prefer 
to  cultivate.  The  reward  of  persistency  will  infallibly  come,  in  the 
fading  out  of  the  sullenness  or  depression  and  the  advent  of  real 
cheerfulness  and  kindliness  in  their  stead.  "^  All  this  assumes, 
however,  that  we  know  these  actions.  The  emotions  then  arise 
as  accompaniments  of  the  ideas  thus  generated.  A  funny  book 
will  do  the  same  for  us  that  a  good  laugh  will:  it  will  provoke 
the  emotions  of  mirth,  which  will  then,  if  strong  enough,  make 
us  laugh.  Can  we  suppose  that  a  funny  story  would  make  any 
one  laugh  except  through  his  consciousness,  that  is,  through  his 
ideas? 


SENTIMENTS,  265 


4.  Kinds  of  Emotion. 


Emotion  appears  in  four  forms  sufficiently  distinct  to 
admit  of  being  grouped  into  separate  classes  :  (1)  Egoistic 
Emotion,  or  that  which  arises  as  the  concomitant  of  ideas 
relating  directly  to  self  and  the  interests  of  self ;  (2) 
Esthetic  Emotion,  or  that  which  arises  as  the  concomitant 
of  ideas  of  nature  and  art;  (3)  Ethical  Emotion,  or  that 
which  arises  as  the  concomitant  of  intentional  actions, 
viewed  as  in,  or  out  of,  harmony  with  moral  latv  ;  and  (4) 
Religious  Emotion,  or  that  which  arises  as  the  concomitant 
of  the  idea  of  personal  power  and  perfection  in  the 
Siijpreme  Being. 

We  have  already  seen  why  it  is  difficult  to  classify  the  feelings, 
and  it  is  not  pretended  that  this  classification  is  either  exhaustive  or 
without  cross-divisions.  It  is  offered  as  a  natural  and  practically 
useful  classification,  and  has  the  advantage  of  employing  language 
in  its  accepted  meaning,  without  straining  words  to  fit  an  arbitrary 
manner  of  division. 


5.  Egoistic  Emotions. 

These  emotions  may  be  grouped  as  follows  :  ' 

(1)  Emotions  of  Joy. — These  are  all  pleasurable.  They 
are  of  different  degrees  of  intensity,  and  we  have  many 
words  to  exj)ress  this  variation.  We  may  distinguish  {a) 
Contentment,  a  low  form  of  joyful  emotion,  tending  to 
express  itself  in  a  calm  and  placid  countenance ;  {h) 
Cheerfulness,  a  greater  degree  of  Joy,  tending  to  express 
itself  in  playful  movements,  and  snatches  of  song  and 
laughter ;  and  {(•)  Rapture,  an  ecstatic  state  of  Joy,  tend- 
ing to  express  itself  in  very  demonstrative  ways,  as   in 


WJ56  PSYCHOLOGY, 

exclamations,  leaping  and  dancing.     Joy  marks  a  transi- 
tion from  a  lower  to  a  higher  idea  of  self-perfection. 

(2)  Emotions  of  Sorrow. — These  are  disagreeable,  the 
opposites  of  the  joyful  emotions.  Their  principal  forms 
are  {a)  Depression,  which  is  a  vague  feeling  of  unhappi- 
ness,  manifested  in  a  dull  and  lifeless  countenance ;  (h) 
Dejection,  which  is  a  deeper  sadness,  indicated  by  the 
downcast  eye,  lengthened  features,  and  a  lack  of  interest 
in  surroundings ;  and  (c)  Grief,  which  is  a  strong  and 
agitating  distress,  expressed  by  floods  of  tears  and  con- 
vulsive movements  of  the  face,  which  even  strong  men 
cannot  always  resist.  In  its  most  intense  form.  Grief  does 
not  flow  out  in  tears,  but  stupefies  and  transfixes  the  whole 
man.  The  effort  to  repress  it,  or  the  highest  degree  of  it, 
may  lead  to  an  injury  to  the  brain.  Sorrow  marks  a 
transition  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  idea  of  self-perfection. 

As  these  two  kinds  of  emotion,  the  joyful  and  the  sorrowful,  are 
opposite  in  nature,  so  also  they  tend  to  express  themselves  in  opposite 
ways.  Joy  expresses  itself  in  the  levity  (from  the  Latin  levis,  light), 
or  uplifting,  of  the  features  of  the  face;  Sorrov/,  in  the  gravity 
(from  the  Latin  gravis,  heavy),  or  drawing  down,  of  the  features. 
An  examination  of  Figure  19  shows  the  arrangement  of  the  muscles 
which  give  expression  to  the  face.  Those  of  the  region  round  the 
mouth  are  more  fully  exhibited  in  Figure  20.  When  these  muscles 
are  allowed  to  hang  by  their  own  weight,  under  the  influence  of 
gravity,  they  express  Sorrow.  When  they  are  lifted  by  the  action 
of  nervous  and  muscular  force,  they  express  Joy.  The  effect  of 
their  action  is  shown  in  Figure  21.  Regarding  the  matter  now  from 
the  subjective  side.  Sorrow  gives  us  a  feeling  of  weakness;  Joy,  a 
feeling  of  strength.  This  feeling  cannot  always  be  a  truthful  report 
of  our  actual  physical  condition,  because,  without  increasing  our 
strength  at  all,  a  pleasant  idea  produces  Joy  within  us,  which  we  at 
once  express  by  lifting  up  the  downcast  features.  We  can  explain 
the  transition  only  by  an  involuntary  reaction  of  the  soul  upon  the 
body,  according  as  the  ideas  produce  Joy  or  Sorrow.     "In  Joy," 


SENTUIENTS.  257 

says  Sir  Charles  Bell,  ''the  eyebrow  is  raised  moderately,  but  with- 
out any  angularity ;  the  forehead  is  smooth,  the  eye  full,  lively, 
sparkling- ;  the  nostril  is  moderately  inflated  and  a  smile  is  on  the 
lips.  In  all  the  exhilarating  emotions,  the  eyebrow,  the  eyelids,  the 
nostril,  and  the  angle  of  the  mouth  are  raised.  In  the  depressing 
passions  it  is  the  reverse.  For  example,  in  discontent  the  brow  is 
clouded,  the  nose  peculiarly  arched,  and  the  angle  of  the  mouth 
drawn  down."^  "Writers  of  fiction,  if  also  observers  of  nature, 
sometimes  describe  a  man  who  has  just  received  some  depressing 
news — say,  a  heavy  bill — as  presenting  a  very  long  face.  Can  we, 
from  actual  observation  and  analysis,  say  that  a  long  face  is  a  mode 
of  expression?  ...  In  a  case  where  one  side  of  the  face  is  paralyzed 
by  destruction  of  its  motor  nerve,  the  paralyzed  side  after  a  time 
drops  under  the  action  of  gravity.  In  such  a  case  I  have  demon- 
strated by  measurement  that  the  paralyzed  side  may  be  three-quarters 
of  an  inch  longer  than  the  other  side  when  in  action.  The  actual 
length  of  the  face  can  then  be  increased  if  the  muscles  are  paralyzed  ; 
so  also  if  they  be  relaxed  from  want  of  nerve-force  coming  to  the 
muscles.  A  face  that  is  long,  owing  to  nerve-muscular  conditions, 
may  be  a  direct  expression  of  the  brain  condition ;  a  relaxed  condi- 
tion of  the  facial  muscles,  allowing  the  face  to  fall  and  lengthen,  is 
the  outcome  of  feeble  nerve-currents  coming  down  from  its  nerve- 
centres.  A  long  face  may,  then,  indicate  weakened  brain  force,  and 
this  often  accompanies  the  mental  condition  following  from  a  sudden 
disappointment.  Another  factor  in  producing  a  long  face  as  a 
temporary  condition,  is  the  falling  of  the  lower  jaw."^  Ideas  seem 
in  this  case  to  react  upon  the  brain  very  much  as  in  the  reaction  of 
Phantasy  (pages  90,  91). 

(3)  Emotions  of  Pride. — These  give  a  certain  pleasure 
to  the  mind.  They  accompany  exalted  ideas  of  self.  Pride 
assumes  the  forms  of  («)  Self-complacency,  {h)  Vanity, 
and  [c)  Haughtiness,  They  all  express  themselves  by  an 
erect  stature,  a  lifting  of  the  features,  and  the  stronger 
forms  by  the  contraction  of  the  eyebrows. 

(4)  Emotions  of  Humility.— Humility  is  the  opposite  of 
Pride.     It  accompanies  a  low  idea  of  one^s  merits.     It  ap- 


258  PSYCHOLOGY. 

pears  as  {a)  Modesty,  {h)  Meekness,  and  (c)  Lowliness. 

'i'hese  are  manifested  b}'  blushing,  the  falling  of  the  eyes, 
and,  in  the  most  intense  forms,  by  the  prostration  of  the 
body. 

"A  proud  man  exhibits  his  sense  of  superiority  over  others  by 
holding  his  head  and  body  erect.  He  is  haughty  (from  the  French 
limit,  high),  and  makes  himself  appear  as  large  as  possible;  so  that 
metaphorically  he  is  said  to  be  swollen  or  puffed  up  with  Pride.  A 
peacock  or  a  turkey-cock  strutting  about  with  pufted-up  feathers,  is 
sometimes  said  to  be  an  emblem  of  Pride.  The  arrogant  man  looks 
down  on  others  and  wdth  lowered  eyelids  hardly  condescends  to  see 
them ;  or  he  may  show  his  contempt  by  slight  movements  about  the 
nostrils  or  lips.  Hence  the  muscle  which  everts  the  lower  lip  has 
been  called  the  musculus  sujjerbus  (from  the  Latin  superbus, 
proud)."  ^  See  Figure  20,  h.  There  is  another  muscle  calkd  the 
corrugator  super cilii,  or  wrinkler  of  the  eyebrow  (Figure  19,  22), 
whose  agency  in  contracting  the  eyebrow  in  the  expression  of  Pride 
has  given  us  the  word  "supercilious."  As  the  emotion  of  Pride  is 
attended  with  a  feeling  of  physical  strength,  so  that  of  Humility  is 
accompanied  with  a  feeling  of  weakness.  Hence,  there  is  the  tend- 
ency to  bow  the  head  and  prostrate  the  body.  The  phenomenon  of 
blushing  is  the  usual  expression  of  Modesty.  Darwin  says:  "  Blush- 
ing is  the  most  pecuh'ar  and  the  most  human  of  all  expressions. 
Monkeys  redden  with  passion,  but  it  would  require  an  overwhelming 
amount  of  evidence  to  make  us  believe  that  any  animal  could  blush. 
The  reddening  of  the  face  from  a  blush  is  due  to  the  relaxation  of 
the  muscular  coats  of  the  small  arteries,  by  which  the  capillaries  be- 
come filled  with  blood ;  and  this  depends  on  the  proper  vaso-motor 
centre  being  affected.  No  doubt  if  there  be  at  the  same  time  much 
mental  agitation,  the  general  circulation  will  be  affected ;  but  it  is 
not  due  to  the  action  of  the  heart  that  the  net-work  of  minute  vessels 
covering  the  face  becomes  under  a  sense  of  shame  gorged  with  blood. 
We  can  cause  laughing  by  tickling  the  skin,  weeping  or  frowning 
by  a  ))low,  trembling  with  the  fear  of  pain,  and  so  forth;  but  we 
cannot  cause  a  blush,  as  Dr.  Burgess  remarks,  by  any  physical 
means, — that  is,  by  any  action  of  the  body.  It  is  the  mind  which 
must  be  affected.     Blushing  is  not  only  involuntary;  but  the  wish 


SENTIMENTS.  259 

to  restrain  it,  by  leading  to  self-attention,   actually  increases  the 
tendency."  ' 

(5)  Emotions  of  Hope. — Hope  arises  as  the  accompani- 
meidt  of  ex^^ected  good.  It  gives  firmness  to  the  soul  even 
in  the  presence  of  danger.  It  enlivens,  cheers,  and  stimu- 
lates to  action.  Its  forms  are  {a)  Self-confidence,  when 
personal  action  is  necessary;  {h)  Daring,  when  danger  has 
to  be  met,  and  (c)  Her.ism,  when  life  has  to  be  imperilled. 
Its  characteristic  modes  of  expression  all  indicate  strength, 
as  the  erect  form,  the  open  eye,  the  composed  features,  and 
the  eager  attitude. 

(G)  Emotions  ot  Fear. — Fear  is  the  opposite  of  Hope. 
It  accompanies  ex^oected  evil.  It  is  the  soul's  weakness. 
It  may  result  also  from  bodily  weakness.  It  is  always 
painful,  as  Hope  is  pleasurable.  Its  forms  are  {a) 
Anxiety,  {b)  Alarm,  {<•)  Terror,  and  {cl)  Horror.  Its 
bodily  signs  are  trembling  and  crouching,  the  opposites  of 
the  composure  and  erect  posture  of  Hope.  In  its  most 
intense  forms  it  is  paralyzing,  rendering  fliglit,  to  which 
it  disposes,  impossible. 

The  expression  of  Fear  indicates  a  greater  departure  from  the 
normal  and  customary  bodily  condition  than  the  expression  of  Hope. 
The  heart  beats  violently.  The  surface  becomes  pale.  A  cold  per- 
spiration exudes.  The  hairs  on  the  skin  stand  erect  and  the  muscles 
tremble.  The  respiration  is  quickened,  the  mouth  becomes  dry  and 
the  voice  fails. 

(7)  Emotions  of  Wonder. — Wonder  is  the  emotion  pro- 
duced by  the  unexpected.  Its  forms  are  {a)  Surprise,  {b) 
Amazement,  and  {c)  Awe.  It  is  expressed  by  suspended 
respiration,  a  dropping  of  the  jaw,  a  fixed  stare  of  the 
eyes,  and  an  extending  of  the  hands. 


260  FSYCJIOLOOY. 

(8)  Sympathetic  Emotions. — AVe  are  so  constituted  that 
we  share  the  emotions  of  otliers.  Emotions,  of  whatever 
kind,  communicated  in  this  indirect  manner,  may  be 
called  Sympathetic.  The  word  "  Sympathy  "  is  properly 
applied  to  any  feeling  corresponding  witli  the  feeling  of 
another  and  occasioned  by  it.  Antipathy  is  incompatibility 
of  feeling,  the  opposite  of  Sympatliy. 

All  emotion  is  contagious.  The  good  or  bad  humor  of  a  speaker 
influences  an  entire  audience.  Joy  and  Sorrow,  Hope  and  Fear,  are 
pervasive.  Laughter  excites  laughter;  tears  provoke  tears.  A  brave 
leader  inspires  his  followers  with  his  own  courageous  emotions ;  a 
routed  regiment  spreads  panic  through  an  entire  army.  We  often 
value  persons  for  their  prevailing  emotional  states,  for  these  have  as 
powerful  an  influence  as  any  personal  qualities. 

Emotional  states  are  more  easily  modified  than  destroyed. 
The  fountains  of  laughter  and  of  tears  lie  very  close  together.  It  is 
impossible  in  many  cases  to  check  an  emotion  suddenly  where  it  is 
very  easy  to  change  its  character.  One  who  is  skilled  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  feelings  never  tries  to  destroy  an  emotion  in  an 
instant,  but  to  divert  and  modify  it.  Like  a  powerful  stream  of 
water,  emotion  can  be  drawn  into  another  channel,  but  it  cannot 
be  annihilated.  All  excitement  must  have  its  expression,  but  a 
modification  of  the  emotion  may  render  possible  a  new  and  unex- 
pected outlet. 

6.  ^^stlietic  Emotions. 

Esthetic  Emotion  is  the  sentiment  that  arises  in  the 
soul  as  the  concomitant  of  ideas  of  nature  and  art.  This 
is  different  from  the  simple  sentience  that  is  produced  by 
the  contemplation  of  forms,  colors  and  motions.  Esthetic 
sentiment  is  a  highly  intellectualized  emotion,  arising  only 
in  those  who  are  capable  of  forming  ideas  and  compre- 
hending their  meaning.  Our  agsthetic  emotions  may  be 
classed  according  to  the  qualities  that  give  rise  to  them. 
On  this  principle  of  classification  they  are  as  follows  ; 


SENTIMENTS,  261 

(1)  Emotions  of  the  Comical. — These  depend  princi- 
pally upon  the  apprehension  of  some  incongrnity  when 
ao  harm  or  danger  accompanies  it.  If  actual  or  possible 
injury  results  from  an  incongruity,  very  different  emotions 
are  produced,  excluding  those  of  the  Comical,  as  Fear, 
Sorrow,  Sympathy,  etc.  For  example,  if  one  slips  and 
falls  when  walking  confidently  along,  without  injury  of 
any  kind,  it  seems  comical ;  but  if  one  is  injured,  the 
incongruity  of  the  sprawling  figure  is  not  comical.  Only 
the  heartless  can  laugh  at  a  misfortune.  Emotions  of  the 
Comical  are  produced  by  {a)  Humop,  {(>)  Wit,  (6')  the 
Ludicrous,  and  {d)  the  Ridiculous.  Humor  is  a  genial 
play  of  ideas,  provoking  smiles  and  laughter.  Wit  is  a 
startling  revelation  of  an  unexpected  coincidence  or  re- 
semblance and,  when  not  severe,  as  it  sometimes  is,  also 
provokes  smiles  and  laughter.  ^  The  Ludicrous  is  some- 
thing that  we  may  laugh  at  without  a  serious  loss  of 
respect  for  it.  The  Ridiculous  is  something  that  we  laugh 
at  as  unreasonable  or  insignificant. 

The  philosophy  of  the  Comical  presents  a  difficult  and  com- 
plicated subject.  The  tendency  to  laugh  has  been  regarded  by 
some,  as  by  Hobbes,  for  example,  as  resulting  from  a  feeling  of 
superiority  in  ourselves  or  of  contempt  for  others.  This  is  true  in 
the  case  of  the  Ridiculous,  but,  as  Coleridge  has  said,  is  contrary  to 
the  facts  in  other  cases. ^  Aristotle's  definition  of  the  cause  of 
laughter  is, — surprise  at  perceiving  anything  out  of  place,  when  the 
unusualness  is  not  accompanied  by  a  sense  of  serious  danger.  "  Such 
surprise,"  adds  Coleridge,  "  is  always  pleasurable."  ^^  We  may  safely 
say  that  incongruity  without  danger  is  usually  comical,  but,  as  we 
shall  see,  this  requires  some  limitation.  "Why  do  we  smile,"  says 
Herbert  Spencer,  "when  a  child  puts  on  a  man's  hat  ?  or  what  in- 
duces us  to  laugh  on  reading  that  the  corpulent  Gibbon  was  unable 
to  rise  from  his  knees  after  making  a  tender  declaration  ?  The  usual 
reply  to  such  questions  is,  that  laughter  results  from  a  perception  of 


26^  PSYCHOLOGY. 

incongruity.""  But,  as  Bain  says,  "  There  are  many  incongruities 
that  may  produce  anything  but  a  hiugli.  A  decrepit  man  under  a 
heavy  burden,  five  loaves  and  two  fishes  among  a  multitude,  and  all 
unfitness  and  gross  disproportion;  an  instrument  out  of  tune,  a  fly 
in  ointment,  snow  in  May,  Archimedes  studying  geometry  in  a  siege, 
and  all  discordant  things."  ^^  He  then  notes  "  degradation  "  as  a 
differentia  of  the  Comical,  but,  certainly,  we  laugh  at  many  things 
that  involve  no  degradation.  He  thinks  he  finds  the  real  essence  of 
the  Comical,  however,  in  a  "reaction  from  the  serious."  "So  in- 
tense," he  says,  "among  the  majority  of  persons  is  the  titillation 
arising  from  being  suddenly  set  loose  from  this  peculiar  Idnd  of 
restraint,  that  they  are  willing  to  be  screwed  up  into  the  serious 
posture  for  a  moment,  in  order  to  luxuriate  in  the  deliverance.  The 
comic  temperament  is  probably  determined  by  a  natural  inaptitude 
for  the  dignified,  solemn,  or  serious,  rendering  it  especially  irksome 
to  sustain  the  attitude  of  reverence,  and  very  delightful  to  rebound 
from  it."  ^2  There  is  much  of  this  recognizable  in  our  experience  of 
the  Comical,  and  yet  we  cannot  identify  the  Comical  with  mere  lilj- 
eration  from  restraint.  "Laughter,"  as  Spencer  says,  "naturally 
results  only  when  consciousness  is  unawares  transferred  from  great 
things  to  small — only  when  there  is  what  we  call  a  descending  incon- 
gruity,"^* As  a  physical  expression,  laughter  is  probably  the  dis- 
charge of  nervous  energy  gathered  for  a  serious  effort  and  let  loose 
along  the  lines  of  least  resistance,  finding  vent  in  the  muscular  move- 
ments of  the  vocal  and  respiratory  organs,  and  finally,  if  not  pre- 
viously expended,  in  the  contortion  of  the  whole  body.  But  there 
may  be  laughter  without  the  Comical,  as  in  the  laughter  of  hysterij*. 
We  must  look  deeper  than  this  for  its  real  cause  as  an  expression  of 
the  emotions  of  the  Comical.  Mivart  points  out  that  there  are  two 
kinds  of  laughter,  "one  physical  and  sensuous,  the  other  intel- 
lectual." "  It  is  with  the  latter  that  we  have  to  deal  when  speaking 
of  the  emotions  of  the  Comical,  These  certainly  depend  upon  an 
intellectual  apprehension.  Spencer  cites  as  an  illustration  the  ar- 
rival of  a  tame  kid  upon  the  stage  in  the  midst  of  a  tragedy,  who, 
after  staring  at  the  audience,  goes  up  to  two  reconciled  lovers  and 
licks  their  hands.  This,  he  says,  is  a  case  of  "  descending  incon- 
gruity." The  nervous  energy  is  forced  into  a  "  small  channel  "  by 
this  incongruity  and  discharges  itself  in  laughter.^®  But  Spencer's 
quantitative  terms,  "large  channels"  and  "small  channels"  do  not 


SENTIMENTS,  263 

apply  to  ideas.  The  apprehension  of  the  "  descending  incongruity  " 
is  a  qualitative  distinction  made  by  the  Intellect.  Immediately 
there  rises  in  consciousness  an  emotion  of  the  Ludicrous  and  laugh- 
ter follows.  How  is  the  qualitative  distinct  i(ni  of  the  "  descending 
incongruity  "  translated  into  the  movement  of  nervous  energy  toward 
a  small  channel,  which  it  overflows  and  so  expends  itself  in  laugh- 
ter ?  If  we  reply,  the  mind,  expecting  a  serious  and  continuous 
exertion,  gathers  the  nervous  energy  for  such  an  effort,  from  which 
it  suddenly  ceases  on  the  perception  of  the  incongruity,  leaving  the 
accumulated  force  to  expend  itself  along  lines  of  least  resistance,  we 
assume  that  a  qualitative  distinction  in  the  mind  can  produce  a 
quantitative  etfect  in  the  nervous  system.  It  certainly  cannot  be 
believed  that  the  kid  on  the  stage  produces  any  other  pJiy&ical  effect 
at  this  juncture  than  at  another.  We  seem,  therefore,  to  have  posi- 
tive evidence  that  the  soul  reacts  upon  the  body  in  an  inscrutable 
manner,  so  that  qualitative  differences  in  consciousness  produce 
quantitative  differences  in  the  nervous  system. 

(2)  Emotions  of  the  Beautiful. — As  we  have  seen,  there 
is  a  sensuous  beauty  which  produces  pleasurable  sensations 
^page  236).  There  is  also  an  ideal  beauty,  or  perfection 
of  type,  which  is  apprehended  only  by  the  Intellect  and 
is  not  explicable  in  terms  of  sensation.  Of  every  kind  of 
being  there  is  the  perfect  type,  not  necessarily  actually 
embodied  in  any  known  form,  but  existent  for  the  Imagi- 
nation. Such  a  perfect  cype  is  called  "the  ideal."  The 
contemplation  of  it  affords  a  pleasure  which  we  call  the 
Emotion  of  the  Beautiful.  The  realm  of  the  ideal  is  the 
sphere  of  Art,  which  some  who  can  enjoy  merely  sensuous 
beauty  do  not  appreciate,  because  they  have  no  ideals. 
Objects  in  which  an  ideal  type  is  realized  are  called 
Beautiful.  Those  which  contain  some  elements  and  sug- 
gestions only  of  the  ideal  are  called  Graceful.  Those  con- 
taining enough  of  the  ideal  to  constitute  a  pleasing  picture 
are  called  Picturesque.     The  appreciation  of  ideal  beauty 


264  PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  too  intellectual  to  require  marked  bodily  expression. 
The  crude  and  ignorant  are  often  struck  with  surprise  on 
beholding  an  embodiment  of  beauty  and  give  expression 
to  their  feelings  by  demonstrations  similar  to  those  of 
Wonder. 

The  theories  of  the  nature  of  beauty  are  too  numerous  and  com- 
plicated to  admit  of  discussion  here,  and  must  be  sought  in  special 
treatises  on  Esthetics."  For  the  psychologist  it  is  sufficient  to  re- 
solve the  emotion  of  the  Beautiful  into  its  constituents,  and  to  deter- 
mine its  leading  characteristics.  Physical  objects  possess  properties 
which  affect  us  agreeably  through  our  superior  senses.  We  recog- 
nize, therefore,  a  sensuous  beauty,  or  adaptation  in  things  to  affect 
us  pleasantly  through  our  sense-organs  (page  237).  But  a  pleasure 
of  a  different  and  higher  order  is  afforded  through  our  apprehension 
of  ideas.  Plato  taught  that  certain  types,  or  ideas,  have  existed 
eternally  in  the  divine  mind,  and  that  these  are  absolutely  perfect 
(page  143).  Such  ideas  are  essentially  beautiful,  and  the  embodiment 
of  them  renders  the  thing  in  which  they  are  embodied  beautiful.  The 
emotions  experienced  in  contemplating  these  perfect  types  are  the 
emotions  of  the  Beautiful.  We  may  doubt  the  existence  in  the  mind 
of  such  absolute  and  eternal  ideas  as  Plato  describes,  for  we  find  that 
the  typical  form  of  each  race  of  mankind  is  the  model  of  beauty  for 
that  race.  The  Hottentots  do  not  admire  the  Venus  de  Medici,  and 
Caucasians  certainly  do  not  regard  a  Hottentot  Venus  as  a  perfect 
type  of  womanhood.  We  may  believe,  then,  that  each  race  forms 
its  own  idea  of  a  perfect  type  and  that  this  varies  with  individuals, 
but  we  cannot  doubt  that  there  exists,  for  superior  minds  at  least, 
an  ideal  beauty,  which  differs  from  sensuous  beauty  in  being  appre- 
hended by  the  Intellect.  From  the  apprehension  of  ideals  rises  the 
aesthetic  judgment,  which  renders  possible  a  theory  of  art  and  a  sci- 
ence of  criticism  which  can  render  a  reason  why  one  thing  is  beauti- 
ful and  another  is  not.  Analysis  shows  that  assthetic  judgments  are 
based  on  either  (1)  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  idea  expressed,  or  (2)  the 
adaptation  of  the  means  employed  to  express  the  idea.  Here  is  a 
foundation  for  rational  art  criticism.  If  ideas  have  no  intrinsic 
value,  all  pleasure  derived  from  art  is  merely  sensuous.  But  we 
regard  some  ideas  as  intrinsically  more  important  than  others.    The 


SENTIMENTS.  265 

idea  of  a  man  has  a  higher  value  than  that  of  a  leaf.  The  picture  of 
an  ideal  man  has  a  higher  art-value,  that  is,  if  well  expressed,  has 
more  beauty,  than  that  of  an  ideal  leaf.  The  idea  of  a  perfect  face 
is  superior  to  that  of  a  perfect  foot.  It  contains  more  and  nobler 
accessory  ideas.  It  is  an  index  of  thought,  feeling  and  character. 
It  is  a  medium  of  moral  and  spiritual  expression.  Again,  some 
forms,  colors,  and  proportions  are  better  adapted  than  others  for  the 
expression  of  ideas.  All  art  is  purposive,  or  teleological.  It  con- 
veys meaning,  and  meaning  implies  an  end  and  a  plan  for  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  end.  Art  aims  to  discover  elevated  and  in- 
trinsically valuable  ideas,  and  then  to  give  them  the  most  perfect 
expression.  It  implies  purpose,  order,  adaptation,  idealization.  It 
is,  therefore,  supremely  intellectual.  Its  constructive  faculty  is 
Imagination.  The  enjoyment  of  art  also  requires  the  exercise  of 
Imagination,  in  order  to  interpret  the  idea  of  the  artist.  The  me- 
chanical accuracy  of  photography  is  not  considered  artistic,  because 
it  is  blindly  reproductive.  Mere  portrait-painting  is  not  a  high  form 
of  art,  although  it  involves  great  skill  of  execution.  Historical- 
painting  is  artistic  mainly  as  it  permits  the  use  of  Imagination  in 
representing  a  vast  and  complicated  scene  in  small  compass  and  in 
selecting  the  proper  moment  for  representation.  The  difference 
between  a  realistic  imitation  of  a  plate  of  oysters,  even  though  they 
are  so  natural  as  to  stimulate  the  appetite,  and  Raphael's  Sistine 
Madonna,  is  not  one  of  degree,  but  one  of  kind.  Imitation  is  me- 
chanical. Idealization  is  intellectual.  It  is  idealization  which  con- 
stitutes the  difference  between  imitative  and  creative  art,  between 
sensuous  and  ideal  beauty.  The  emotions  of  the  beautiful,  in  the 
proper  sense,  arise  as  concomitants  of  the  ideal,  which  is  the  product 
of  the  idealizing  process.  The  ideal  derives  its  character  from  the 
embodiment  of  an  idea  in  its  typical,  perfect,  universal  form.  The 
ideal  often  suggests  the  infinite  and  the  eternal,  because  it  is  a  pure 
idea  stripped  of  the  mere  accidents  of  place  and  time.  Hence  it 
satisfies  all  imaginative  souls,  and  it  may  be  truly  said, — 

"  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever." 

(3)  Emotions  of  the  Sublime.  —  The  emotions  of  the 
Sublime  are  produced  when  an  idea  manifests  itself  in 
excess  of  the  form  through  which  it  is  revealed,  and  so 


266  PSYCHOLOGY. 

expresses  unwonted  power.  The  Imagination  is  thus 
overwhehned  and  Phantasy  is  unable  to  confine  the  idea 
to  ordinary  limits.  The  lowest  form  of  sublimity  is 
Grandeur.  Its  highest  is  Awe.  The  last  is  akin  to  Fear, 
and  tends  to  express  itself  by  the  external  signs  of  that 
Emotion. 

Vast  spatial  extent,  like  that  of  the  ocean,  the  Alpine  mountains, 
s.nd  the  celestial  distances  contemplated  by  the  astronomer  ;  incon- 
ceivable duration,  like  that  of  the  geological  periods  and  the  idea  of 
eternity;  irresistible  power,  like  that  of  the  tornado,  the  avalanche, 
and  the  volcano ;  terrific  sounds,  like  those  of  the  thunder,  the  tem- 
pest, and  the  earthquake;  incalculable  rapidity  of  movement,  like 
that  of  the  engulfing  flame  of  a  conflagration,  the  dash  of  the  sea  on 
the  rocks,  and  the  flash  of  liglitning ; — all  produce  the  emotions  of 
the  sublime.  So  also  do  great  daring  and  fortitude,  especially  in 
Royalty  to  truth  or  duty,  giving  rise  to  the  morally  sublime;  as  in 
the  calm  death  of  Socrates,  the  resolution  of  the  Russians  to  burn 
their  capital,  and  of  the  Hollanders  to  flood  their  country  with  the 
sea,  rather  than  surrender  to  their  enemies  their  homes  and  liberties. 
The  sublime  does  not  afford  a  province  for  art  like  that  of  beauty. 
The  finite  conditions  of  portraiture  usually  divest  the  sublime  idea 
of  its  overwhelming  character.  If  successfully  represented,  it  fails 
to  impress  us,  because  in  a  picture  time  for  reflection  is  possible  and 
study  suggests  the  presence  of  exaggeration,  and  when  this  is  per- 
ceived "  it  is  but  a  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous."  What- 
ever pleasure  is  derived  from  the  sublime  is  transitional,  and  a 
picture  or  statue  which  expresses  sublimity  is  liable  under  contempla- 
tion to  appear  horrible.  If  the  climax  of  action  is  depicted,  there  is 
no  room  left  for  the  play  of  Imagination,  and  we  grow  weary  both 
of  contemplating  that  crisis  which  affords  no  advance  to  something 
beyond  and  of  beholding  a  situation  which,  if  real,  could  not  be  long 
sustained.  Art  employs  the  sublime  very  sparingly  and  most  suc- 
cessfully only  as  an  offset  to  beauty.  Hints  and  suggestions  of  the 
infinite,  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  Imagination,  are  sometimes 
effective,  as,  for  example,  an  endless  vista  of  open  clouds,  a  threat- 
ening storm-cloud  over  a  peaceful  landscape,  or  some  other  single 
feature.     Poetry  employs  the  sublime  more  freely  than  pictorial  oi 


SENTIMENTS.  267 

plastic  art,  because  while  these  latter  can  represent  but  a  single, 
momentary  situation,  which  becomes  painful  if  really  sublime, 
poetry  can  narrate  a  continuous  story,  and  in  its  progress  may 
follow  its  touches  of  sublimity  with  other  and  more  satisfying 
emotions. 

(4)  Emotions  of  the  Pathetic. — There  is  a  sentiment 
that  arises  as  the  concomitant  of  our  apprehension  of  the 
evanescence  and  misfortune  of  beauty  and  goodness  that 
might  very  well  be  called  "^Esthetic  Sorrow.^'  Its  ac- 
cepted name  is  Pathos.  It  is  this  that  lends  a  charm  to 
tragedy.  It  easily  becomes  mere  ^^  sentimentality/^  which 
implies  an  artificial  element. 

There  is,  undoubtedly,  a  certain  aesthetic  pleasure  in  addition  to 
plot-interest  connected  with  tragedy  as  presented  on  the  stage.  If 
the  same  scenes  were  to  occur  in  real  life,  they  would,  if  we  were  in 
a  normal  condition,  shock  and  pain  us.  Why  do  they  afford  us 
pleasure  in  a  drama  ?  They  are,  when  dramatically  represented, 
connected  with  scenic  and  histrionic  accessories  of  great  sensuous, 
and  sometimes  of  great  ideal,  beauty ;  they  give  variety  to  our  feel- 
ings, affording  decided  contrasts,  and,  hence,  much  stimulation  to 
our  other  feelings ;  and,  being  mere  make-believes,  they  give  us  the 
feeling  that  even  the  horrible  events  of  life  are,  in  a  sense,  mere 
play  and  illusion.  The  drama — and  this  may  be  said  also  in  part  of 
the  novel — affords  an  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  such  natural 
feelings  as  Sorrow  and  Pity,  without  any  real  bitterness  to  us.  We 
shed  our  tears  and  exercise  our  sympathies  without  any  real  cost. 
It  is  easy  to  see  how  a  passion  for  the  Pathetic  leads  to  a  hollow 
sentimentalism.  Having  stirred  these  deeper  emotions  by  the  ficti- 
tious without  any  result  in  action,  we  form  the  habit  of  not  acting 
when  our  sympathies  are  touched  by  deserving  objects.  Hence  it  is 
that  we  may  weep  over  the  beautiful  heroine  in  the  play,  whose  suf- 
ferings and  death  are  known  to  be  a  sham,  while  the  realistic  beggar 
at  the  door  of  the  theatre  may  die  of  cold  or  hunger  before  morning 
without  our  shedding  a  tear.  Artificial  excitation  which  does  not 
lead  to  action  gives  to  the  emotions  an  artificial  character,  and  this 
is  sentimentality. 


268  PSYCHOLOGY, 

7.  Ethical  Emotions. 

Ethical  emotions  are  those  which  arise  in  ns  on  account 
of  our  relations  to  Moral  Law.  In  the  j)i'esence  of  a  law 
known  to  be  just  and  right  we  have,  in  our  normal  state, 
sentiments  of  Reverence  for  the  law,  of  Obligation  to 
obey  it,  and  of  Responsibility  for  not  having  obeyed  it. 
These,  when  analyzed,  are  found  to  be  the  emotive  ac- 
companiments of  judgments  that  it  is  right  to  obey  the 
law  and  wrong  to  violate  it.  We  may  distinguish  in  addi- 
tion the  following  ethical  emotions  : 

(1)  Emotions  of  Approval. — There  are  certain  emotions 
which  arise  when  we  contemplate  obedience  to  moral  law. 
When  we  reflect  upon  our  own  obedience,  there  arise  the 
feelings  of  Innocence  and  Self-respect.  When  we  con- 
sider the  obedience  of  others,  we  entertain  toward  them 
sentiments  of  Satisfaction  and  Respect. 

(2)  Emotions  of  Disapproval. — When  we  reflect  upon 
our  own  disobedience  to  moral  law,  we  experience  the 
emotions  of  Guilt  and  Shame.  We  know  these  feelings  to 
be  degrading  to  ourselves  and  hence,  in  the  normal  man, 
they  induce  Sorrow,  which  accompanies  a  transition  from 
a  higher  to  a  lower  idea  of  self-perfection.  This,  when 
profound,  is  Remorse,  which  sometimes  leads  to  Repent- 
ance. The  emotions  of  Guilt  and  Shame  express  them- 
selves by  blushes,  stammering,  and  other  signs  of  con= 
fusion.  The  contemplation  of  moral  disobedience  in 
others  leads  to  Distrust  and  Disrespect. 

The  relation  of  Psychology  to  Ethics,  or  the  science  of  right 
conduct,  is  a  close  and  important  one.  A  sound  Psychology  has 
rendered  possible  a  great  advance  in  the  scientific  basis  and  develop- 
ment of  Ethics.     It  is  evident  that  there  is  no  separate  faculty 


SENTIMENTS.  269 

called  ''Conscience,"  as  was  formerly  believed  and  taiight.^^  Con- 
science is  only  another  name  for  the  Moral  Consciousness,  or  con- 
sciousness applied  to  moral  subjects.  It  reveals  to  us  (1)  a  knowledge 
of  moral  distinctions  and  of  the  law  by  which  these  distinctions  of 
"right"  and  "wrong"  are  made;  (2)  an  experience  of  moral  senti- 
ments, such  as  approval  and  disapproval ;  and  (3)  moral  freedom,  or 
voluntary  choice  between  right  and  wrong  courses  of  conduct.  Thus 
understood,  Ethics  is  seen  to  be  a  real  science,  deriving  its  facts  from 
the  Moral  Consciousness.  It  may  be  considered  as  an  extension  of 
Psychology  in  a  particular  direction,  the  sphere  of  right  conduct,  as 
Logic  is  in  the  direction  of  pure  thought,  and  as  Esthetics  is  in  the 
direction  of  higher  sensibility.  We  have  the  less  need  to  enlarge 
upon  this  branch  of  Psychology  in  a  general  treatise,  because  it  is 
the  exclusive  topic  of  a  special  study. 

8.  Religious  Emotions. 

Religious  emotions  are  those  which  arise  when  we  think 
of  the  Supreme  Beings  the  Author  and  Preserver  oi 
Life,  as  a  Living  Person.  Some  form  of  religion  is  re- 
garded by  naturalists  as  universal  among  the  races  of 
man^i^  and  no  tribe  has  been  discovered  incapable  of  re- 
ligious education.  20  The  ethical  emotions  are  usually 
blended  with  the  religious,  though  not  invariably.  The 
emotions  awakened  by  the  idea  of  Deity  vary  widely,  ac- 
cording to  the  intellectual  and  moral  development  of  races 
and  persons,  but  the  following  are  characteristic  forms  of 
religious  feeling : 

(1)  The  Emotion  of  Dependence. — Every  human  being 
feels  his  dependence  upon  a  power  outside  of  and  above 
himself.  If  he  believes  in  the  existence  of  a  Personal 
Being  who  is  the  Creator  and  Ruler  of  the  world,  this 
feeling  prompts  him  to  offer  prayers  for  the  divine  protec- 
tion and  assistance.  Sacrifice  also,  when  it  is  believed  to 
be  aoceptablcj  is  offered,  in  the  hope  of  propitiating  favor. 


270  PSYCnOLOGY. 

Although  the  origirx  of  religion  is  usually  referred  to  other  than 
emotional  grounds  by  those  who  have  attempted  to  give  an  account 
of  it,  a  German  tlieologian,  known  also  as  a  philosopher,  F.  E.  D. 
Schleiermacher  (17G8-1834),  regarded  religion  as  primarily  founded 
upon  the  feeliag  of  absolute  dependence.  This  view  has  been  ac- 
cepted by  others  and  is  assumed  by  them  as  the  starting-point  of  the 
philosophy  of  religion.  "The  essential  germ  of  the  religious  life," 
says  J.  D.  Morell,  ' '  is  concentrated  in  the  absolute  feeling  of  depend- 
ence on  infinite  power."  ^^  "The  perennial  source  of  religion,  opened , 
afresh  in  every  new-born  soul, "  says  Newman  Smyth,  ' '  is  the  feeling 
of  absolute  dependence. "  ^^  Others  hold  that  religion  ' '  depends  for 
its  existence  on  the  essential  nature  of  reason.  .  .  .  Before  the  re- 
ligious feeling  acquires  the  distinctness  of  a  notion  and  urges  to 
conscious  action,"  says  D.  G.  Brinton,  "it  must  assume  at  least 
three  postidates,  and  without  them  it  cannot  rise  into  cognition. 
These  are  as  follows :  I.  There  is  Order  in  things.  II.  This  order  is 
one  of  Intelligence.  III.  All  Intelligence  is  one  in  kind."^^  The 
universality  of  the  laws  of  thought  (page  162),  the  intellectual  neces- 
sity of  Absolute  and  Infinite  Being  (pages  181,  183)  and  a  First 
Cause  (page  198),  and  the  presence  of  intelligent  design  in  nature 
(pages  190,  197),  are  grounds  on  which  these  three  postulates  are 
based.  The  religious  emotions  are  not  the  cause  of  religion,  but 
effects  in  the  sphere  of  feeling  resulting  from  religious  ideas.  The 
starting-point  of  religion  is  to  be  found  in  the  tendency  of  the  human 
mind  to  explain  all  phenomena  in  tiie  terms  of  personality.  This 
tendency  seems  to  be  based  on  the  conviction  that  mind  and  person- 
ality are  manifest  everywhere  in  nature. 

(2)  The  Emotion  of  Adoration. — This  is  the  emotion 
which  prompts  us  to  worshi]?.  It  arises  in  the  soul  upon 
the  contemplation  of  the  j^ower,  j^erfection,  benevolence^ 
and  holiness  of  the  Deity.  It  is  awakened  even  by  certain 
glorious  aspects  of  nature^  regarded  as  expressions  of 
personality,  which  have  led  to  nature-worshij").  Adoration 
expresses  itself  through  hymns  and  ascriptions  of  praise. 

The  sun,  the  sky,  the  winds,  the  ocean,  the  clouds,  day,  night, 
iime^ — aU  seem  to  the  untutored  mind  to  be  personal  forces,  full  of 


SENTIMENTS.  271 

life  and  energy,  sometimes  kindly  favoring,  and  sometimes  malig- 
nantly marring,  the  plans  of  men.  Hence,  they  become  objects  of 
worship.  They  are  propitiated  by  sacrifices,  entreated  with  prayers, 
honored  with  shrines  and  temples  (page  125),  and  the  grammatical 
gender  of  primitive  names  gives  them  the  semblance  of  persons,  so 
that  Imagination  weaves  about  them  the  vestures  of  poetry  and 
mythology.  The  play  of  the  Intellect  opens  a  new  development  of 
religion.  The  mind  finally  employs  its  power  of  abstraction.  It 
fixes  attention  upon  some  quality  or  attribute  inherent  in  concrete 
things,  names  it,  treats  it  as  real,  and  reasons  about  it  as  if  it  were  a 
living  thing  (pages  147,  148).  This  concept  is  then  personified,  by 
that  poetic  tendency  of  the  Imagination  which  impels  us  to  treat  the 
creations  of  thought  as  if  they  were  living  beings;  then,  finally, 
drawn  by  the  influence  that  makes  the  ideal  seem  superior  to  the 
real,  the  mind  apotheosizes  the  concept,  and  a  new  deity  is  added  to 
the  world's  pantheon.  The  Romans  were  exceedingly  prolific  in  such 
deifications,  surpassing  the  Greeks,  who  adhered  more  closely  to  a 
modified  nature-worship.  ' '  They  had  solemn  abstractions  mysteri- 
ously governing  every  human  action.  The  little  child  was  attended 
by  over  forty  gods.  Vatican  us  taught  him  to  cry;  Fabulinus,  ta 
speak ;  Edusa,  to  cat ;  Potina,  to  drink ;  Abeona  conducted  him  out 
of  the  house;  Interduca  guided  him  on  his  way;  Domiduca  led  him 
home;  and  Adonea  led  him  in.  So,  also,  there  were  deities  con- 
trolling health,  society,  love,  anger,  and  all  the  passions  and  virtues 
of  men."  To  one  with  a  far  higher  idea  of  Deity  than  any  of  these, 
a  Great  Teacher  said:  "Ye  worship  ye  know  not  what;  we  know 
what  we  worship.  .  .  .  But  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is,  when  the 
true  worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth :  for 
the  Father  seeketh  such  to  worship  him.  God  is  a  Spirit:  and  they 
that  worship  him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  2"* 

9.  Relations  of  Emotion  and  Knowledge. 

While  emotion  is  an  accompaniment  of  ideas  and  its 
quality  is  determined  by  tliem,  it  also  reflects  a  powerful 
influence  on  the  intellectual  processes.  Some  forms  of 
{h\^  influence  arc  as  follows : 

(1)  Emotion   antagonizes   present   Knowledge. — As  we 


272  PSYCHOLOOY. 

have  seen  (page  2G),  feeling  and  knowing  are,  in  a  man- 
ner, op250sed.  An  emotional  state  is  not  favorable  to 
sharp  intellectual  discrimination.  In  proportion  to  the 
intensity  of  the  emotion,  the  attention  is  distracted  from 
mental  processes.  Sound  judgment  requires  the  absence 
of  excitement. 

(2)  Emotion  stimulates  us  fop  future  Knowledge. — Al- 
though emotion  is  unfavorable  to  knowledge  at  the  time 
when  it  is  experienced,  it  affords  a  stimulus  to  intellectual 
activity  which  is  necessary  to  produce  or  avoid,  according 
as  it  is  pleasant  or  unjoleasant,  a  future  recurrence  of  the 
emotion.  The  joy  of  discovery  becomes  an  impulse  to 
investigation ;  sorrow  over  failure  prompts  us  to  more 
intense  activity.  Pride  is  a  jDowerful  incentive  to  knowl- 
edge. 

(3)  Emotion  affords  a  bond  between  forms  of  past 
Knowledge. — This  has  been  already  mentioned  (page  75). 
Any  intense  experience  of  emotion  is  likely  to  be  remem- 
bered, and  serves  to  recall  previous  knowledge.  The 
emotion  of  surprise  on  perceiving  a  new  or  strange  object, 
is  frequently  so  marked  as  to  afford  a  strong  link  of  associ- 
ation. Herein,  in  part,  lies  the  power  of  novelty  to  fix 
ideas  in  the  mind.  Grief  is  often  so  associated  with  a 
place  where  it  has  been  experienced,  that  images  of  it  are 
revived  whenever  the  feeling  is  repeated. 

(4)  Emotion  furnishes  a  powerful  impulse  to  Imagina- 
tion.— We  imagine  most  when  under  the  influence  of 
excitement.  Hope  and  fear  stir  the  soul  to  new  and  un- 
usual combinations  of  ideas.  In  a  hopeful  frame  of  mind, 
we  imagine  everything  to  be  more  favorable  to  us  than  it 
really  is  ;  in  a  condition  of  fear,  Ave  imagine  everything  to 
be  less  favorable.     The  emotional  periods  of  life  are  the 


SENTIMENTS.  273 

imaginative  periods.  The  air-castles  of  the  hopeful  youth 
and  the  romantic  dreams  of  the  entranced  lover  are  crea- 
tions of  an  Imagination  moved  by  emotion.  The  a3sthetic 
emotions  stir  Imagination  to  activity  in  pursuit  of  the 
ideal. 

"  The  poet's  eye,  in  afinejrenzy  rolling, 
Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven, 
And,  as  Imagination  bodies  forth 
The  form  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

(5)  Emotion  is  the  principal  cause  of  Interest. — If  ob- 
jects and  ideas  produced  no  feelings  of  pleasure  or  pain  in 
us,  we  should  be  indifferent  to  them.  The  word  "  inter- 
est" (from  the  Latin  inter,  between,  and  est,  is)  signifies 
that  there  is  something  between  the  person  ^'^  interested '' 
and  the  thing  which  ''^interests/''  which  can  be  expressed 
in  terms  of  feeling.  AYhat  produces  no  feeling  in  us, 
directly  or  indirectly,  we  treat  with  indifference. 

(6)  Emotion  is  a  source  of  intellectual  Prejudice. — A 
learner  is  likely  to  regard  as  useless  a  study  which  he  finds 
very  difficult.  Whatever  gratifies  us,  we  readily  regard  as 
harmless ;  and  whatever  pains  us,  we  naturally  consider 
injurious.  We  have  a  tendency  to  believe  that  what  is 
beautiful  is  also  innocent.  The  consistent  seems  true, 
even  when  its  reality  is  not  proved,  because  both  consist- 
ency and  truth  produce  a  feeling  of  harmony.  Inharmoni- 
ous emotions  being  often  associated  with  inconsistent 
ideas,  we  at  last  regard  our  state  of  feeling  as  a  standard 
of  judgment  without  examining  the  facts,  and  this  is  the 
very  meaning  of  prejudice. 

Herbart  considered  pleasure  and  pain  as  the  results  of  the  inter* 
action  of  ideas  (representations) ;  pleasure  being  the  result  of  further 


274  PSYCHOLOGY, 

ance,  pain,  of  hindrance,  in  their  combinations.  If  this  were  true, 
all  harmonious  intellectual  activity  would  be  pleasurable,  all  con- 
flicting mental  operations,  painful ;  and  this,  to  a  certain  extent,  we 
find  to  be  the  case.  We  may  discover  abundant  illustrative  ex- 
amples. There  is  a  certain  painfulncss  attending  a  confused  con- 
versation, in  which  many  persons  are  speaking  on  various  topics  at 
one  time.  A  similar  feeling  arises  from  the  conflict  of  assertions 
with  facts,  of  assertions  with  one  another,  or  of  apparent  facts ;  from 
questions  of  personal  duty,  when  opposite  courses  of  conduct  seem 
to  be  right ;  from  the  contradictory  wishes,  sentiments,  and  judg- 
ments of  friends ;  and  from  every  description  of  mental  confusion. 


10.   Relation  of  Emotion  to  Education. 

Emotion,  as  we  have  just  seen,  is  obstructive  of  think- 
ing at  the  moment  when  it  exists,  and  yet  it  may  be 
employed  as  a  motive  to  mental  action.  From  this  point 
of  view,  Emotion  has  an  important  bearing  upon  educa- 
tion. Its  prominence  as  a  constituent  of  all  psychical  life 
also,  and  especially  of  happiness,  gives  it  a  place  in  every 
well-considered  plan  of  development.  We  shall  confine 
ourselves  here  to  the  following  topics :  (1)  The  emotive 
nature  of  children,  (2)  the  emotive  treatment  of  the 
learner,  (3)  the  emotive  influence  of  the  environment,  (4) 
the  emotive  influence  of  instruction,  and  (5)  the  emotive 
effects  of  practice. 

(1)  The  Emotive  Nature  of  Children.— The  first  condi- 
tion of  success  in  teaching  is  a  comprehension  of  the 
emotive  nature  of  the  learner.  In  children  the  emotions 
have  a  marked  spontaneity,  mobility,  and  intensity.  All 
young  children  are  timid  and  impressible.  Self-regulation 
is  impossible  to  them,  and  they  surrender  themselves  to 
every  breath  of  influence.  Without  much  power  of  volun- 
tary attention,  their  whole  souls  are  delivered  to  the  feel- 


SENTIMENTS.  275 

ings  of  the  moment,  and  from  this  cause  also  they  are 
capable  of  the  most  rapid  transitions  of  emotion.  They 
are  quick  to  sympathize  with  what  they  understand,  but 
this  is  very  little  beyond  what  they  can  observe.  They 
have  small  experience  of  consequences.  Hence,  they  are 
plastic  to  every  touch  of  feeling  exhibited  by  those  about 
them  and  respond  readily  to  personal  moods  and  to  the 
changes  of  the  environment  in  which  they  live. 

(2)  The  Emotive  Treatment  of  the  Learner. — Tlie  emo- 
tional mood  of  the  teacher  is  certain  to  impress  the  learner 
both  consciously  and  unconsciously.  The  only  true  master 
of  others  is  one  who  is  first  master  of  himself.  Both 
sympathy  and  antipathy  combine  to  aifect  the  emotional 
influence  of  a  teacher.  Sympathy,  even  when  not  volun- 
tary, will  lead  the  pupil  to  reflect  the  emotional  states  of 
the  teacher,  whatever  they  are  ;  and  antipathy  will  serve 
to  alienate  the  learner,  not  only  from  the  person  of  the 
teacher  but  from  all  the  occupations  that  he  may  exact. 
Thus,  a  disagreeable  teacher  may  produce  in  the  pupil  a 
positive  dislike  for  study.  The  worriments  incidental  to 
the  work  of  teaching  are  not  infrequently  the  cause  of 
irritation  and  unhappiness  in  the  teacher,  which  are  at 
once  reflected  by  every  sensitive  pupil  in  his  presence. 
When  authority  is  made  to  rest  mainly  on  fear,  rather 
than  on  hope  of  approbation  and  mutual  sympathy  in 
labor,  not  only  does  antipathy  rise  between  instructor  and 
instructed,  but  an  emotional  element  is  present  which  is 
depressing  to  both  mind  and  body,  and  friction  consumes 
the  energy  which  should  be  used  for  intellectual  action. 
The  wise  teacher  values  cheerfulness,  not  only  as  a  condi- 
tion of  effective  work,  but  on  account  of  its  cumulative 
effect   upon   happiness   and   character.      There  is  much 


276  PSYCHOLOGY. 

truth  in  Sydney  Smith's  saying,  ''If  you  make  children 
happy  now,  you  Avill  make  them  happy  twenty  years 
hence,  by  the  memory  of  it/'  There  is  even  a  deeper 
truth  in  the  thought  that  sunshine  induces  the  throwing 
open  of  the  cloak  which  the  storm  prompts  us  to  gather) 
about  us  for  protection  ;  and  thus  we  are  enabled  to  win 
the  spontaneous  trust  and  admiration  which  welcome  our 
influence  to  the  learner's  heart.  The  more  delicately  we 
treat  the  sensibilities  of  children,  the  more  refined  do  they 
become  ;  the  more  rudely,  the  more  blunted.  A  coarse 
teacher  makes  a  coarse  child.  It  is  possible  to  produce 
such  a  condition  of  sensibility  among  pupils  that  a  word 
of  disapproval  is  a  sufficient  punishment ;  and  it  is  also 
possible  to  produce  such  a  state  that  loud  scolding  and 
perpetual  blows  are  wholly  ineffectual  in  maintaining  even 
the  rudiments  of  order.  What  proceeds  from  reason  and 
gentleness  inspires  reasonableness  and  love;  what  pro- 
ceeds from  irritation  and  physical  force  provokes  irritation 
and  a  physical  response.  Ideas  abide  and  react  upon 
conduct ;  blows  sting  for  a  moment  and  leave  little  behind 
but  fear  and  resentment, 

(3)  The  Emotive  Influence  of  the  Environment.— For 
the  child,  more  than  for  adults,  all  things  have  faces  and 
voices.  The  surroundings  very  soon  impress  the  opening 
soul.  Next  to  the  teacher's  own  healthfulness  of  senti- 
ment, the  inanimate  objects,  the  daily  companionships, 
and  the  social  atmosphere  which  surround  the  learner 
affect  his  emotional  nature.  In  many  cases  this  influence 
of  the  environment  is  the  stronger.  Not  only  his  egoistic, 
but  also  his  aesthetic,  ethical,  and  religious  emotions  take 
their  hue  from  it.  Therefore,  beauty  should  be  present 
in  every  practicable  form  and  should  be  interpreted  and 


SENTIMENTS.  277 

impressed  upon  the  mind ;  the  demoralizing  example  of 
rude  manners  and  conduct  should  be  excluded  at  least 
from  the  teacher's  province  ;  and  all  contact  with  impurity 
should  be  guarded  against.  It  is  difficult  to  produce  re- 
fined  sensibilities  in  an  environment  where  the  aesthetic 
and  moral  standards  are  low. 

(4)  The  Emotive  Influence  of  Instruction. — It  is  im- 
portant to  estimate  justly  the  value  of  abstract  instruction 
in  its  effect  upon  the  emotions.  As  we  have  seen  (page 
253),  the  mere  exhortation  to  feel  does  not  make  us  feel. 
The  more  of  reasoning,  the  less  of  emotion.  ^Esthetic  or 
moral  theories  do  not  awaken  aesthetic  or  ethical  emo- 
tions. Mere  precepts  do  not,  therefore,  touch  the  springs 
of  the  emotive  life.  Concrete  realities,  or  ideas  represent- 
ing them,  are  necessary  to  elicit  feeling.  An  example  of 
beauty,  of  justice,  of  tenderness,  of  forgiveness,  deepens 
and  quickens  the  corresponding  emotion.  Therefore, 
beautiful  objects,  just  actions,  tender  attentions,  forgiving 
treatment,  have  a  higher  emotional  value  than  any  doc- 
trines, however  sound.  A  single  lovely  picture  or  a  well- 
told  story  of  a  good  man's  deed  outweighs  much  exhorta- 
tion in  producing  a  cultivated  taste  or  a  more  sensitive 
conscience. 

(5)  The  Emotive  Effect  of  Practice. — We  have  seen 
how  emotions  are  excited  by  doing  that  which  is  express- 
ive of  them  (page  254).  This  suggests  a  truth  of  great 
educational  value.  The  secret  of  emotional  training  lies 
in  practice.  We  develop  the  emotions  which  we  call  into 
exercise.  An  interest  in  art  is  awakened  by  imitation 
and  production.  A  few  lessons  in  drawing  may  do  much 
to  open  the  mind  to  the  discovery  and  appreciation  of 
beauty.     The  wrongness  of  an  action  is  best  emphasized, 


278  PSYCHOLOGY. 

not  wlien  one  has  performed  it,  bat  Avlien  he  lias  suffered 
from  it.  The  victim  of  a  blow,  of  a  falsehood,  of  a  theft, 
is  ill  a  position  to  feel  a  strong  disapproval  of  the  act. 
The  wise  teacher  loses  no  opportunity  to  deepen  the  sense 
of  duty  through  the  consciousness  of  right. 

A  very  full  account  of  the  emotional  psychology  of  small  children 
may  be  found  in  Bernard  Perez'  "The  First  Three  Years  of  Child- 
hood." The  chapters  on  "The  Sentiments"  and  "The  Esthetic 
Sense  in  Little  Children  "  contain  many  curious  facts.  There  is, 
however,  room  for  the  indulgence  of  an  almost  irresistible  tendency 
to  read  theories  into  the  observed  facts,  many  of  which,  without 
doubt,  admit  of  two  or  more  explanations.  The  dangers  of  infer- 
ence here  are  similar  to  those  in  the  allied  realm  of  interpreting 
animal  feelings.  As  Max  Miiller  has  said :  "  If  there  is  danger  from 
Menagerie  Psychology,  there  is  still  greater  danger  from  Nursery 
Psychology.  Nothing  is  more  common  among  psychologists  than  to 
imagine  that  they  can  study  the  earliest  processes  in  the  formation 
of  the  human  mind  by  watching  the  awakening  mental  powers  of  a 
child.  The  illustrations  taken  from  the  nursery  are  not  perhaps 
quite  so  fanciful  as  those  collected  from  menageries,  but  they  have 
often  done  more  mischief,  because  they  sound  so  much  more 
plausible." -5  A  very  full  discussion  of  the  emotions  in  relation  to 
education  is  to  be  found  in  Bain's  "Education  as  a  Science," 
Chapter  III.  The  treatment  suffers  from  a  bad  classification  of  the 
feelings,  in  which  emotions,  desires,  and  affections  are  confused. 
"That  which  also  warps  the  theoretical  views  of  Mr.  Bain,"  says 
Compayre  in  his  "History  of  Pedagogy,"  "is  that  he  accords  no  in- 
dependence, no  individual  life,  to  the  mind;  and  that,  for  him,  back 
of  the  facts  of  consciousness,  there  come  to  view,  without  9ny  inter- 
medium, the  cerebral  organs."  ^^  Bain  also  conceives  of  moral 
training  as  inspired  by  the  penal  code.  Still,  there  are  many  valu- 
able hints  to  be  obtained  from  this  work,  especially  from  the  treat- 
ment of  fear  and  the  evils  worked  by  it.  Herbert  Spencer's  chapter 
on  "Moral  Education "  in  his  "Education:  Intellectual,  Moral, 
and  Physical,"  has  many  helpful  ideas,  but  his  doctrine  of  punish- 
ment, based  on  "the  penal  discipline  of  nature,"  leads  to  practical 
absurdity.     It  is  simply  the  rule  that  punishment  should  consist 


SENTIMENTS,  279 

entirely  of  consequences!  The  "penal  discipline  of  nature"  inflicts 
the  gravest  consequences  for  the  slightest  faults,  as  where  a  man 
slips  and  breaks  his  neck.  Herbert  Spencer's  doctrine  of  punish- 
ment would  permit  boys  to  fall  from  high  places,  to  breathe  bad  air, 
to  poison  their  blood  by  the  use  of  tobacco,  and  tal^e  the  consequences, 
which  he  fancies  would  be  more  wise  and  just  than  the  employment 
of  artificial  punishments.  The  instincts  of  a  father  on  this  point 
are  worth  a  thousand-fold  more  than  the  reasoning,  in  this  case 
thoroughly  fallacious,  of  a  jihilosopher  who  never  had  to  choose 
between  administering  an  artificial  punishment  and  seeing  his  boy 
break  his  neck ! 


fn  this   section,   on    "Emotion,"  we   have   eonsid* 
ered : — 

1,   The  Nature  of  Einotion, 

^.    The  Edcjyression  of  Emotion. 

3.  The  JProduction  of  Emotion, 

4.  Kinds  of  J^  mot  ion, 

5.  Egoistic  Emotions, 

6.  JEsthetic  Emotions, 

7.  Ethical  Emotions, 

8.  Heligious  Emotions, 

9.  Relations  of  Emotion  and  Knotvledge, 
10,  Relation  of  Emotion  to  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Darwin's  Expression  of  the  Emotions  in  Man 
and  Animals,  pp.  28,  29.  (2)  James'  article  on  "What  is  an  Emo- 
tion?" in  Mind,  April,  1884,  p.  188  et  seq.  See  also  a  criticism  by 
Edmund  Gurney,  in  Mitid,  July,  1884,  p.  421  et  seq.  (3)  3Ii7id, 
April,  1884,  pp.  197,  198.  (4)  Bell's  Anatomy  and  Philosophy  of 
Expressio7i,  p.  172.  (5)  Warner's  Physical  Expressio7i,  pp.  201,  202, 
(6)  Darwin's  Expression  of  the  Emotions,  pp.  263,  264.  (7)  Id.,  p. 
310.  (8)  For  a  well  illustrated  distinction  between  Wit  and  Humor, 
see  E.  P.  Whipple's  Literature  and  Life,  p.  84  et  seq.  (9)  Cole- 
ridge's Tahle  Talk,  p.  285.  (10)  Id.  (11)  Spencer's  Illustrations  of 
Universal  Progress,  p.  194.  (12)  Bain's  The  Emotions  and  the  Will, 
pp.  247,  248.  (13)  Id.,  p.  251.  (14)  Sjjencer's  Universal  Progress, 
p.  256.     (15)  St.   George   Mivart's   article  on  "Laughter,"  in   The 


280  PSTCHOLOOT. 

Forttm,  July,  1887,  p.  495.  (16)  Spencer's  Universal  Progress,  p. 
204.  (17)  For  a  short  account  of  Esthetic  Tlieories,  see  Day's 
Science  of  Esthetics,  Chapter  VII.  (18)  For  detailed  reasons  for 
regarding  Conscience  as  not  a  separate  faculty,  see  Hopkins'  The 
Law  of  Love,  pp.  Ill,  115;  and  Porter's  Elements  of  Moral  Science, 
pp.  244,  245.  (19)  Quatrefage's  The  Human  Species,  pp.  482,  483. 
(20)  INIivart's  Lessons  from  Nature,  pp.  140,  141.  (21)  Morell's  The 
Philosophy  of  Religion,  p.  94.  (22)  Smyth's  The  Peligious  Feeling, 
p.  34.  (23)  Brinton's  The  Religions  Sentiment,  p.  89.  (24)  The 
Gospel  according  to  St.  John,  iv  :  22,  24.  (25)  Midler's  Science  of 
Thought,  I.,  p.  22.  (26)  Compayre's  History  of  Pedagogy  (Payne's 
Translation),  p.  561. 


SECTION    11* 

DESIRE. 
1.  Nature  of  Desire. 


Desire  (from  tlie  Latin  desiderdre,  to  miss,  to  long  for) 
is  the  sentiment  of  craving,  impelling  us  to  gain  posses- 
sion of  that  which  will  afford  satisfaction.  It  is  an  indi- 
cation of  the  self-insufficiency  of  our  nature.  Desire  may 
be  resolved  into  three  elements  :  (1)  consciousness  of  want, 
(2)  consequent  restlessness,  and  (3)  longing  for  satisfac- 
tion. Desires  are  to  elementary  feelings  what  representa- 
tive knowledge  is  to  presentative.  The  consciousness  of 
want  results  from  reproducing  in  the  mind  ideas  associ- 
ated with  an  object  that  has  the  power  of  giving  pleasure. 
If  these  ideas  are  not  reproduced,  desires  do  not  arise. 
For  example,  a  certain  pleasure  attends  the  possession 
and  use  of  money.  The  idea  of  money  is  associated  with 
its  ability  to  afford  pleasure  ;  hence,  on  the  appearance  of 


SENTIMENTS.  281 

the  idea,  there  arises  an  accompanying  desire  to  possess 
and  nse  it.  The  opposite  of  Desire  is  Aversion  (from  the 
Latin  a,  from,  and  vertere,  to  turn),  a  feeling  of  loathing 
which  arises  from  ideas  associated  with  pain. 

The  close  connection  between  a  representative  idea  and  a  desire  is 
evident.  We  do  not  desire  tliat  of  which  there  is  no  idea  in  our 
minds,  although  there  is  in  us  a  general  craving  for  change  and  for 
new  experiences.  But  the  moment  anything  is  suggested  with  which 
pleasure  is  associated,  a  desire  for  it  is  created,  if  we  are  in  a  condi- 
tion to  enjoy  it.  The  actual  perception  of  such  an  object  also  pro- 
duces a  desire.  It  is,  however,  through  representation  that  the  de- 
sire is  awakened;  for,  until  the  power  of  an  object  to  give  pleasure 
has  been  experienced,  there  is  no  desire  for  it.  The  child  cares  more 
for  bright  pennies  than  for  bank-notes,  because  the  coins  afford  him 
a  kind  of  sensuous  delight  by  their  form,  lustre,  and  metallic  jingle. 
Later  on,  when  he  discovers  that  a  bank-note  has  many  times  the 
purchasing-power  of  small  coin,  a  desire  for  the  notes  is  produced. 
Thus,  universally,  a  desire  proceeds  from  the  association  of  pleasure 
with  an  object,  and  this  is  effected  through  the  association  of  ideas. 
Even  when  our  desires  are  excited  through  the  persuasion  of  others, 
our  representative  ideas  are  appealed  to  as  the  grounds  of  the  desire. 
The  whole  art  of  persuasion  consists  in  awakening  desires  through 
such  ideas.  One  wholly  incapable  of  pleasure  from  anything  would 
have  no  desires.  He  might,  however,  have  aversions,  if  he  were 
susceptible  of  pains.  If  capable  of  neither  pleasure  nor  pain,  he 
would  be  indifferent  to  everything.  This  condition  is  illustrated  in 
those  who  through  disease  have  lost  the  power  of  feeling. 

2.  Kinds  of  Desire. 

A  precise  distinction  of  the  different  kinds  of  Desire  is 
difficult.  The  best  practical  classification  is  that  which 
groups  them  in  two  main  classes  :  (1)  those  having  refer- 
ence to  self  alone,  called  Personal  Desires  ;  and  (2)  those 
having  reference  to  self  in  relation  to  other  persons,  and 
called  Social  Desires. 


•282  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Two  antithetical  terms  have  lately  come  into  general  use  to  indi- 
cate the  opposite  ideas  of  desires  centring  on  self  and  desires  centring 
on  other  persons.  Egoism  (from  the  Latin  Ego,  I)  signifies  selfish- 
ness, and  Altruism  (from  tlie  Latin  alter,  another)  signifies  interest 
in  the  welfare  of  others.  In  using  the  terms  "personal  desires  "  and 
*'  social  desires,"  it  is  not  here  intended  to  denote  these  opposite  ideas 
marked  by  the  terms  "  Egoism  "  and  "Altruism."  The  terms  "  per- 
sonal" and  "social"  are  employed  to  distinguish  the  desires  which 
arise  apart  from  other  persons  from  those  that  arise  in  relation  to 
other  persons.  Even  the  desires  here  called  ' '  social  "  may  be  ego- 
istic, and  the  desires  here  called  "personal"  may  be  altruistic.  A 
mother's  ambition  for  her  son,  or  a- friend's  ambition  for  a  friend,  is 
altruistic.  The  character  of  a  desire  is  not  changed  by  the  personal 
reference  of  it.  The  same  desires  may  be  egoistic  or  altruistic,  ac- 
cording as  they  are  entertained  for  one's  own  self,  or,  through  sym- 
pathy, in  behalf  of  another  person.  "  Since  we  can  interpret  others' 
experience  only  by  our  own,  a  broad  and  intense  ego-life  is  the  con- 
dition of  any  full  and  deep  social  life.  It  is  only  in  our  own  con- 
sciousness that  the  meaning  and  value  of  life  and  its  experiences  can 
be  revealed ;  and  without  the  knowledge  of  these  there  can  be  no 
sympathy  for  others  and  no  understanding  of  them.  Selfishness 
does  not  consist  in  valuing  ourselves,  but  in  ignoring  the  equal 
claims  and  rights  of  others."  * 

3.  Tlie  Personal  Desires. 

The  forms  of  Desire  having  reference  to  self  alone  are 
as  follows  : 
(1)  Desire  of  continued  Existence,  or  Self-preservation. 

— The  idea  of  personal  destruction  is  disagreeable  to  most 
minds.  The  wish  that  one  might  cease  to  be,  is  never 
entertained,  excej)t  in  abnormal  states  of  mind  or  body, 
and  may  be  regarded  as  an  indication  of  disease  or  in- 
sanity. The  desire  to  live,  even  in  the  discomforts  of  the 
present  life,  is  almost  universal.  The  desire  of  immor- 
tality is  one  of  the  strongest  in  the  soul.  The  pessimist, 
who  regards  life  as  a  burden,  is  rarely  found ;  and,  when 


SENTUIENTS.  283 

fonnd,  the  proposition  to  kill  him  usually  cures  him. 
Normal  men  are  practical  o]3timists  ;  and,  though  they 
may  believe  that  life  might  be  more  agreeable  than  they 
find  it,  they  value  it  sufficiently  to  cling  to  it  hopefully, 
and  strive  to  make  it  more  desirable. 

If  all  men  were  really  pessimists  (from  the  Latin  pessimus,  the 
worst),  quite  hopeless  of  good,  the  human  species  would  soon 
come  to  an  end  by  voluntary  self-destruction.  But  pessimism  is 
merely  occasional  and  temporary.  It  is  largely  a  matter  of  passing 
mood.  It  has  been  well  said  that  it  rests  entirely  upon  the  crude 
fallacy  of  regarding  the  evil  that  is  in  one's  self  as  evil  inherent  in  the 
nature  of  the  world.  It  is  a  malady  that  rarely  affects  any  but  the 
intensely  selfish  and  conceited.  It  results  from  a  diseased  sub- 
jectivism of  thought  and  feeling.  This  is  historically  demonstrable 
from  the  biographies  of  pessimists.  The  certain  cure  of  it  is  a  health- 
ful objective  activity  and  especially  a  sympathetic  exertion  to  dimin- 
ish the  sufferings  of  other  people.  We  thereby  forget  our  own  and 
lighten  their  sorrows,  and,  in  the  joy  of  an  approving  conscience  and 
the  gratitude  of  those  whom  we  assist,  discover  a  preponderance  of 
happiness  over  misery. 

(2)  Desire  of  Pleasure,  or  Self-indulgence. — Man  has 

the  power  of  generalizing  his  agreeable  states  into  a  con- 
cept of  pleasure,  and  ends  by  making  pleasure  in  general 
an  object  of  desire.  Ideas  of  pleasure  differ  widely,  from 
that  of  the  mere  sensualist  who  finds  his  chief  good  in 
bodily  sensations,  to  that  of  the  philosopher  who  finds  it 
in  the  pursuit  of  truth  and  the  performance  of  duty.  It 
is  natural  to  man  to  seek  such  objects  as  give  him  inno- 
cent pleasure,  and  the  desire  for  pleasure  in  some  form  is 
universal.  Man  deludes  himself,  however,  in  seeking 
pleasure  in  the  abstract.  In  this  form  it  does  not  exist. 
Therefore,  by  making  pleasure  an  object  of  pursuit  one 
never  realizes  it. 


284  PSYCHOLOGY. 

A  wise  and  experienced  American  teacher,  Francis  Wayland 
(1796-1865),  has  said:  "Our  desire  for  a  particular  object,  and  tlie 
existence  of  the  object  adapted  to  this  desire,  is  in  itself  a  reason 
why  we  should  enjoy  that  object,  in  the  same  manner  as  our  aversion 
to  another  object  is  a  reason  why  we  should  avoid  it.  There  may 
sometimes  be,  it  is  true,  other  reasons  to  the  contrary,  more  authori- 
tative than  that  emanating  from  this  desire  or  aversion,  and  these 
may  and  ought  to  control  it ;  but  this  does  not  show  that  this  desire 
is  not  a  reason,  and  a  sufficient  one,  if  no  better  reason  can  be  shown 
to  the  contrary.  .  .  .  We  find  by  experience  that  a  desire  or  appe- 
tite may  be  so  gratified  as  forever  afterwards  to  destroy  its  power  of 
producing  happiness.  Thus,  a  certain  kind  of  food  is  pleasant  to 
me ;  this  is  a  reason  why  I  should  partake  of  it.  But  I  may  eat  of 
it  to  excess,  so  as  to  loathe  it  forever  afterwards,  and  thus  annihilate 
in  my  constitution  this  power  of  gratification.  .  .  .  Again,  every 
man  is  created  with  various  and  dissimilar  forms  of  desire,  corre- 
spondent to  the  different  external  objects  designed  to  promote  his 
happiness.  Now,  it  is  found  that  one  form  of  desire  may  be  grati- 
fied in  such  manner  as  to  destroy  the  power  of  receiving  happiness 
from  another;  or,  on  the  contrary,  the  first  may  be  so  gratified  as 
to  leave  the  other  powers  of  receiving  happiness  unimpaired.  .  .  . 
Hence,  while  it  is  the  truth  that  human  happiness  consists  in  the 
gratification  of  our  desires,  it  is  not  the  whole  truth.  It  consists  in 
the  gratification  of  our  desires  within  the  limits  assigned  to  them  hy 
our  Creator.'''"^ 

(3)  Desire  of  Knowledge,  or  Curiosity. — This  is  a  power- 
ful desire,  but  varies  in  both  form  and  intensity.  In  some 
individuals  it  is  dominant,  leading  to  the  sacrifice  of  most 
other  objects,  as  in  the  case  of  those  investigators  who  are 
animated  by  a  strong  desire  for  truth  in  its  scientific  forms. 
In  some  it  degenerates  into  a  low  inquisitiveness  that  is 
without  interest  in  eternal  truth,  but  finds  satisfaction  in 
the  excitement  and  novelty  of  the  most  trivial  gossip. 

Curiosity  is  the  first  spur  of  childhood  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
and  it  is  also  the  impulse  that  impels  the  philosopher  to  forego  all 
other  pleasures  for  the  sake  of  discovering  truth.     It  assumes,  how- 


SENTIMENTS.  285 

«ver,  great  modification  witli  the  unfolding  of  the  mind.  In  the 
child,  doubtless,  the  pleasure  of  a  novel  sensation  is  a  large  element 
in  curiosity.  The  tendency  to  investigate  is  manifested  so  early, 
however,  that  it  seems  an  instinct  in  young  children  to  obtahi  and 
open  and  examine  every  new  thing.  The  same  disposition  is  mani- 
fested in  apes  and  monkeys,  but  it  ends  with  small  results.  In  man 
this  instinct  combines  with  a  rational  nature,  and  he  finds  a  satis- 
faction in  the  discovery  of  truth  as  such.  This  is  the  trait  of  scien- 
tific curiosity.  But  even  this  is  intimately  blended  with  other  de- 
sires. The  love  of  adventure,  a  desire  for  variety  of  experience, 
the  expectation  of  fame,  even  the  hope  of  pecuniary  rewards,  all 
combine  with  the  pure  and  unselfish  desire  for  truth  in  actuating 
men  to  undertake  laborious  investigations.  All  this  is  shown  in  the 
boasting  of  explorers,  the  vacillation  of  discoverers,  the  jealousy  of 
writers,  the  litigation  of  inventors,  and  the  controversial  spirit  that 
so  often  spoils  scientific  work.  The  consentient  judgment  of  men 
awards  high  appreciation  to  a  sincere  devotion  to  truth  for  its  own 
sake  in  which  even  this  appreciation  has  not  been  a  controlling 
motive. 

(4)  Desire  of  Property,  or  Acquisitiveness,  is  a  promi- 
nent desire  in  men.  There  is  a  keen  satisfaction  in  ex- 
clusive proprietorship.  Property,  especially  in  the  form 
of  money,  which  is  a  kind  of  generalized  form  of  wealth, 
is  in  a  sense  a  generic  good,  inasmuch  as  there  are  few 
kinds  of  pleasure  which  it  cannot  obtain.  Hence,  men 
make  great  sacrifices  in  the  acquisition  of  it,  sometimes 
degrading  themselves  to  obtain  it,  and  sometimes  only  to 
find  that  in  the  process  of  acquisition  they  have  destroyed 
the  capacities  of  enjoyment. 

In  the  miser,  acqiusitiveness  degenerates  into  avarice.  The  miser 
is  a  psychological  anomaly,  and  yet  not  difficult  to  explani.  He  be- 
gins with  the  idea  of  pleasure  as  an  accompaniment  of  the  use  of 
money.  He  experiences  a  pleasure  in  jnere  possession  which,  as  af- 
fording the  continual  possihility  of  pleasure,  at  last  comes  to  be  the 
dominant  pleasure  itself.     Every  new  augmentation  of  wealth  in- 


286  PSYCHOLOGY. 

creases  this  pleasure,  but  not  in  the  same  proportion,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  but  there  it  ceases.  According  to  a  psycho-physical  law,  a  pro- 
gressively greater  increment  of  excitation  is  required  to  increase  in  the 
same  degree  the  amount  of  feeling.  As  a  man  with  a  single  dollar 
feels  more  pleasure  in  adding  to  his  possessions  another  dollar  than  a 
man  worth  a  million  does,  so,  universally,  a  greater  and  greater  in- 
crement of  gain  is  required  with  the  increase  of  wealth  to  render  one 
happy.  Attending  now  mainly  to  the  growth  of  his  fortune,  rather 
than  to  the  amount  or  use  of  it,  the  miser  actually  feels  poorer  as  he 
becomes  richer  !  Thus  his  happiness  is  turned  into  misery,  and  his 
very  name  denotes  his  wretchedness.  For  this  there  is  but  one  cure, 
the  normal  use  of  wealth  as  a  means  for  its  natural  end,— the  increase 
of  life  and  happiness. 

(5)  Desire  of  Power,  or  Ambition. — There  is  a  certain 
satisfaction  found  in  the  possession  of  power,  that  leads 
men  to  desire  it.  Position,  or  place,  sometimes  affords 
men  an  opportunity  to  acquire  and  exercise  power,  and, 
for  this  reason,  becomes  an  object  of  desire.  The  word 
''Ambition''  is  from  the  Latin  amhitio,  a  going  around, 
especially  of  candidates  for  orffice  in  Eome,  to  solicit  votes  ; 
hence  U  has  some  to  signify  a  desire  for  office  or  honor. 


4.  The  Social  Desires. 

The  principal  desires  arising  through  our  relation  to 
other  persons  are  : 

(1)  Desire  of  Companionship,  or  Sociability.— Man  is  a 

social  being.  In  truth,  it  is  because  of  his  existence  in 
society  that  he  is  man.  The  individual,  left  to  himself, 
in  infancy,  would  perish  ;  in  mature  life,  would  degen- 
erate. Most  of  the  comforts  of  life  and  all  of  its  refine- 
ments are  afforded  by  the  social  state.  The  instrument 
of  thought,  language,  is  a  social  product.  The  faculties 
are  stimulated  and  directed  by  contact  with  other  minds. 


SENTIMENTS.  287 

Society  is  the  sphere  in  wliich  the  affections  have  their 
origin.  The  hermit  soon  reverts  to  an  animal  plane  of 
life.  Hence,  in  all  normal  minds,  there  is  a  strong  desire 
for  the  social  medium,  which  is  to  the  mind  what  air  and 
food  are  to  the  body. 

''Man  is  naturally  selfish,  and  naturally  social  and  sympathetic. 
There  is  provision  in  our  nature  both  for  selfishness  and  for  society 
and  mutual  help.  The  whim  that  the  natural  state  of  man  is  the 
war  of  all  against  all  was  the  conclusion  of  a  theory  rather  than  the 
expression  of  experience.  Man  seeks  man  and  delights  in  man  far 
more  than  man  wars  upon  man.  This  primal  man  who  reasoned 
himself  into  society  is  a  near  relative  of  the  men  who  emerged  from 
inhuman  isolation  and  made  the  social  contract  which  figured  so 
largely  in  the  political  philosophy  of  the  last  century.  The  real 
function  of  the  various  considerations  of  interest  and  mutual  advan- 
tage which  are  appealed  to,  has  not  been  to  develop  the  social  senti- 
ments, but  to  extend  their  application  beyond  narrow  family  or 
■Sribal  limits."^ 

(2)  Desire  of  Imitation,  or  Imitativeness. — Man  is  an 

imitative  being,  finding  great  satisfaction  in  doing  what 
others  do.  This  desire  is  always  manifested  in  children, 
and  is  an  important  factor  of  their  education.  The  power 
of  public  opinion,  custom,  and  fashion,  is  an  evidence  of 
the  prevalence  of  this  desire  among  men. 

The  tendency  to  imitate  is  deeply  ingrained  in  human  nature.  It 
has  a  physiological  foundation.  There  is  an  organic  sympathy  in 
the  different  parts  of  the  nervous  system,  so  that  when  one  part  is 
affected  all  are  indirectly  influenced.  This  extends  beyond  the 
organism.  The  sight  of  a  ghastly  wound  is  painful.  Ideas  react 
upon  the  organism.  This  is  particuhxrly  true  of  the  imitation  of 
motions.  The  smile  or  yawn  of  another  tends  to  excite  imitation  in 
us.  Children  respond  to  the  sounds  made  by  animals,  and  mimic 
the  cries  of  cats,  dogs,  and  sheep.  This  is  the  basis  on  which  artic- 
ulate language  is  first  acquired.     The  child  imitates  the  sounds  of 


288  PSYCHOLOGY. 

others  about  it  and  learns  the  kind  of  language  that  is  spoken  in  itfl 
presence.  We  all  try  to  imitate  those  whom  we  consider  superior. 
The  superficial  peculiarities  and  accidental  traits  of  great  orators 
and  writers  are  more  easily  acquired  than  their  native  intellectual 
or  emotional  power,  and  it  is  the  former  which  the  young  admirer  is 
most  likely  to  reproduce.  The  power  of  fashion  depends  largely 
upon  the  desire  to  appear  like  those  who  occupy  an  exalted  position 
in  our  eyes.  The  most  absurd  extravagances  appear  even  beautiful 
when  associated  with  wealth,  or  beauty,  or  supposed  culture.  Un- 
derlying this,  there  is  a  plausible  philosophy.  We  think  that  people 
who  can  do  what  they  will,  would  not  do  this  particular  thing  if  it 
were  not  the  best.     Therefore,  we  do  as  others  do. 

(3)    Desire  of  Esteem,  or  Apppobatlveness. — Men  are 

largely  influenced  by  the  opinions  of  others  concerning 
them.  The  respect  of  our  fellows  is  a  natural  object  of 
desire^  and  results  in  the  develoj)ment  of  some  of  the 
noblest  elements  in  human  character.  The  consentient 
opinions  of  the  wise  and  good  form  a  valuable  criterion  of 
conduct.  We  easily  make  the  mistake  of  regarding  also 
the  opinions  of  the  foolish  and  vicious.  As  mere  ojoinion 
does  not  contain  a  rule  of  judgment,  we  must  seek  it  else- 
where. The  sacrifices  men  make  for  the  sake  of  a  good 
reputation  show  that  it  is  considered  one  of  the  dearest  of 
earthly  possessions. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  stronger  desire  in  men  than  the  desire  of  fame. 

It  is  not  a  desire  of  territory  but  of  glory  that  stimulates  the  soldier 
to  endure  the  hardships  and  face  the  dangers  of  war.  Man  is  the 
only  earthly  being  capable  of  the  desire  of  posthumous  fame,  or 
glory  after  death.  It  seems  impossible  to  account  for  this  wide- 
spread and  intense  human  desire  except  upon  the  supposition  that 
men  instinctively  believe  in  their  own  immortal  existence.  Like  all 
the  other  desires,  the  desire  for  esteem  easily  assumes  abnormal 
forms,  and  perhaps  the  most  ridiculous  of  these  is  the  desire  of  no- 
toriety, apart  from  the  estimate  put  upon  it  in  the  public  conscious- 


SENTUIENTS.  289 

ness.     But  mere  notoriety  serves  so  many  purposes,  some  of  them 
purely  sordid,  that  the  desire  for  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand. 

(4)  Desire  of  Superiority,  or  Emulation.— This  is  closcl}' 
allied  to  Ambition,  but  differs  from  it  in  being  a  desire  for 
relative  rather  than  absolute  attainment.  It  is  a  powerful 
motive  to  action,  urging  on  the  naturally  indolent,  but 
also  over-stimulating  the  industrious.  It  is  often  attended 
with  great  excitement,  and  so  becomes  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  principles  in  our  nature. 

5.   Desire  and  Will. 

Desire  arises  spontaneously  in  consciousness  when  ideas 
associated  with  pleasure  are  presented.  It  is  an  involun- 
tary accompaniment  of  mental  activity.  And  yet  the  de- 
sires are  indirectly  under  the  control  of  the  Will.  It  is 
upon  this  assumption  alone  that  desires  can  have  any  rela- 
tion to  morality.  Such  a  relation  they  certainly  have,  for 
we  distinguish  between  what  ought  and  what  ought  not 
to  be  desired.  We  control  our  desires  only  by  a  voluntary 
withdrawal  of  the  attention  from  those  ideas  which  excite 
them  and  by  refusing  to  grant  them  indulgence  when 
excited. 

6.  Desire  and  Education. 

Desire  has  even  a  closer  relation  to  education  than  Emo- 
tion, for  the  desires  constitute  the  principal  incentives  to 
action.  As  in  the  case  of  the  appetites,  so  in  that  of  the 
emotions,  there  is  a  perpetual  battle  between  self-indul- 
gence in  present  pleasures,  on  the  one  hand,  and  such  de- 
sires as  those  of  knowledge,  power,  esteem,  and  superiority, 
on  the  other.     The  growth  of  the  desires  soon  results  iu 


290  PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  formation  of  one  of  two  types  of  character, — the  self- 
satisfied  or  the  ambitious.  The  first  needs  to  be  stimu- 
lated along  the  path  of  activity,  the  second  often  requires 
to  be  repressed.  The  great  disadvantage  of  all  competi- 
tive methods  is,  that  the  dull  and  unaspiring  minds  are 
not  reached  by  them,  while  the  ambitious,  who  often  need 
repression  more  than  stimulation,  are  spurred  on  to  un- 
healthful  activity  and  a  still  more  unhealthful  feeling 
either  of  envy  and  hatred,  if  they  are  unsuccessful,  or  of 
pride  and  contempt  for  others,  if  they  are  successful. 
We  shall  limit  our  discussion  to  (1)  the  educational  use 
of  the  desires,  and  (2)  the  regulation  of  the  desires. 

(1)  The  Educational  Use  of  the  Desires. — The  whole 
process  of  education  assumes  the  existence  of  certain  na- 
tive impulses  which  respond  to  stimulation.  The  native 
curiosity  of  a  child  affords  the  teacher  some  hope  of  being 
able  to  attract  his  attention  and  engage  his  interest.  Every 
wise  teacher  begins  a  new  subject  by  establishing  a  relation 
between  the  child^s  native  curiosity  and  the  facts  and  prin- 
ciples to  be  disclosed,  unless  it  can  be  already  assumed  to 
exist.  The  chief  difficulty  is  not  in  obtaining,  but  in 
holding,  the  attention  ;  for  a  thousand  irrelevant  desires 
come  into  conflict  with  the  chikFs  interest  in  what  is  j^re- 
sented.  Here  other  desires  must  be  utilized,  such  as  de- 
sire of  imitation,  approbation,  and  emulation.  The  aver- 
sions, or  negative  desires,  have  their  place  also  ;  as  the 
aversion  to  pain  in  every  form,  to  the  inability  to  do  as 
others  do,  to  disapprobation,  and  to  the  sense  of  inferi- 
ority. In  the  use  of  desires  and  aversions  there  is  wide 
scope  for  the  teacher^s  personal  ingenuity  and  tact ;  for, 
owing  to  the  great  variation  of  temperaments,  no  uniform 
method  is  universally  good. 


SENTIMENTS.  291 

(2)  The  Regulation  of  the  Desires. — Like  the  appetites, 
the  desires  must  be  governed,  and  made  to  conform  to 
reason.  Their  regulation  cannot  be  accomplished  by  their 
destruction  ;  for  this  is  next  to  impossible,  and  in  the  case 
of  the  natural  desires,  would  result  in  a  serious  mutilation 
of  the  nature  ;  but  they  may  be  made  to  balance  one  an- 
other, and  so  produce  an  equilibrium  of  character.  It  is 
this  harmonious  balance  of  desires  that  constitutes  the 
ideal  man.  The  total  eradication  of  the  desires,  even  of 
those  we  call  ^^  selfish,"^  would  result  in  a  serious  injury. 
Not  to  desire  existence,  pleasure,  knowledge,  property,  or 
power, — would  be  to  become  2:)essimistic,  ascetic,  ignorant, 
improvident  and  servile.  Not  to  desire  society,  con- 
formity to  others,  approval,  or  superiority, — would  be  to 
become  isolated,  eccentric,  despicable  and  inferior.  True 
Altruism  is  not  found  in  destroying  our  natural  desires, 
and  true  Egoism  does  not  consist  in  the  gratification  of 
them.  The  highest  humanity  is  reached  when  the  de- 
sires are  moderated  and  transfused  with  reason,  and  when 
the  equal  claims  of  others  to  the  same  reasonable  gratifi- 
cation of  their  desires  also  is  unselfishly  recognized. 

The  relative  values  of  private  and  class  instruction,  the  proper 
mode  of  stimulating  ambition  and  of  employing  emulation,  and  the 
utUity  of  various  systems  of  marking  the  work  of  learners,  are 
closely  associated  with  the  psychology  of  the  desires.  Private  in- 
struction has  the  advantage  of  affording  more  opportunity  for  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  the  student  and  specific  comprehension  of 
■his  needs ;  while  class  instruction  has  the  advantages  that  come  from 
greater  enthusiasm,  the  imitation  by  the  backward  of  those  in  ad- 
vance, of  competition  among  the  pupils  for  preeminence  and  for  the 
teacher's  approval.  The  danger  of  emulation  has  been  already 
pointed  out.  Some  of  its  impulses  may  be  obtained  without  its 
intense  personal  effects  by  matching  one  class  with  another  and  not 


292  PSYCHOLOGY. 

allowing  individual  superiority  to  count.  This  method  creates  g 
strong  desire  for  distinction,  which  is,  nevertheless,  largely  sympa- 
thetic and  altruistic,  as  it  is  shared  by  all.  It  is  difficult  to  see  any 
objection  to  fixing  a  standard  to  which  all  must  attain,  in  order  to 
be  passed  to  higher  study.  Although  there  are  intrinsic  difficulties 
in  representing  this  standard  by  a  fixed  number,  there  seems  to  be 
no  valid  objection  to  a  teacher's  employing  such  a  sign,  for  he  must 
in  some  way  fix  this  standard  in  his  mind.  The  keeping  of  a  daily 
record  is  far  more  likely  to  secure  justice  than  a  single  mark  de- 
pendent upon  the  contingencies  of  a  single  examination.  The  main 
objection  to  a  "  marking-system  "  seems  to  be  to  its  relative  dis- 
criminations, not  to  its  absolute  nature.  The  motive  of  the  learner, 
all  will  admit,  should  be  to  acquire  knowledge,  not  to  secure  a  high 
mark;  but  any  objection  that  lies  against  marking  the  student's  at- 
tainments might  equally  well  lie  against  the  teacher's  mere  announce- 
ment that  the  student  is  promoted.  The  mark  and  the  announce- 
ment mean  the  same, — that  the  student  may  go  on  with  higher 
work.  It  is  the  odious  comx>arison  involved  in  published  gradea 
that  produces  evil  effects. 

Ill  this  section,  on  "Desire,"  we  have  considered: 

1,  The  Nature  of  Desire, 

2,  Kinds  of  Desire, 

3,  The  Personal  Desires, 

4,  The  Social  Desires, 

5,  Desire  and  Will, 

6,  Desire  and  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Bownc's  Introduction  to  Psychological  Theory, 
p.  195.  (2)  Wayland's  Moral  Science,  pp.  101,  103.  (3)  Bowne's 
Introduction,  p.  Id6. 


SENTUIENTS.  293 

SECTION  in. 

AFFECTION. 

1.  Natvire  of  Aflfection. 

Affection  (from  the  Latin  ad,  to,  and  facere,  to  make) 
is  a  form  of  sentiment  implying  a  making  toward,  or  go- 
ing out  to,  an  obiect.  Like  Desire,  it  has  an  object  out- 
side of  self  ;  but,  unlike  Desire,  it  reveals  a  fullness,  not 
an  emptiness,  of   our  nature.     It  may  be  resolved  into 

(1)  a  consciousness  of  benevolent   or  malevolent  feeling, 

(2)  generated  by  the  idea  of  a  definite  object,  (3)  toward 
which  the  feeling  is  directed.  For  example,  take  a 
mother's  Affection  for  her  child.  It  is  not  simply  an 
Emotion,  for  it  has  a  definite  external  object.  It  is  not 
simply  a  Desire,  though  it  may  be  blended  v/ith  desires, 
for  it  is  not  so  much  a  craving  for  the  child  as  it  is  a  full- 
ness of  feeling  going  out  toward  the  child.  Its  distin- 
guishing characteristic  is  that  it  is  a  particular  sentiment 
directed  toward  a  definite  object. 

All  deep  and  abiding  affection  is  of  slow  growth.  It  resembles 
the  process  of  generalization  in  the  formation  of  a  concept.  It  re- 
sults from  a  repeated  experience  of  one  kind  of  feeling  caused  by  <i 
particular  person  or  thing.  The  child's  love  for  its  mother  well 
illustrates  this.  At  first  it  cannot  be  presumed  to  have  any  prefer- 
ence for  its  mother  over  other  persons  who  are  kind  to  it ;  but,  grad- 
ually, memories  of  pleasurable  experience  cluster  around  the  mother, 
whose  constant  ministries  are  ever  augmenting  and  reviving  associa- 
tions of  satisfaction.  The  loving  care,  the  tender  sympathy,  the 
watchful  protection,  the  kindly  counsel,  the  sheltering  and  soothing 
presence,  combine  their  effects  upon  the  Sensibility  in  an  aggregate 


294  PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  delightful  recollections  from  which  the  chidings  and  pains  of  pun- 
ishment are  obliterated,  and  the  result  is  Love.  It  grows  with  the 
years  as  an  appreciation  of  her  skill,  and  wisdom,  and  virtue,  and 
self-sacrifice,  becomes  better  defined  to  the  unfolding  Intellect.  In 
a  similar  way  the  love  of  places  grows.  The  pleasures  of  childhood 
are  all  associated  with  the  place  and  scenes  of  home.  Here  the  first 
lessons  in  Sense-perception  are  taken,  here  language  is  first  acquired, 
here  the  first  emotions  of  all  kinds  are  experienced  with  the  fresh- 
ness of  novelty  in  them,  here  too  the  personal  affections  are  formed 
amid  memories  of  father  and  mother,  brother  and  sister.  And  so  it 
results  that,  however  humble,  home  elicits  the  affections  of  child- 
hood, and  the  last,  as  they  are  the  first,  of  all  the  sentiments  of  the 
heart,  held  sacred  in  all  our  contacts  with  the  world,  are  the  love  of 
mother  and  the  love  of  home. 


2.   The  Classification  of  AflFections. 

We  may  classify  Affections  in  three  ways  : 

(1)  According  to  tlieir  Objects. — Regarding  their  ob- 
jects, we  may  say  that  Affections  are  {(()  General,  when 
entertained  toward  men  nniversally,  as  PliUantliropy,  or 
love  of  man,  and  Misantliropy,  or  hatred  of  man  ;  (^) 
Corporative,  wlien  entertained  toward  particnlar  gronps, 
as  Fatriotisjn,  or  love  of  country,  and  Esprit  de  Corps, 
or  party-spirit ;  (c)  Domestic,  when  entertained  toward 
members  of  one^s  own  family,  as  Conjugal,  Parental, 
Filial,  and  Fraternal  Love ;  (d)  Elective,  when  enter- 
tained according  to  some  particnlar  jiersonal  ground  of 
attachment,  as  Friendsliip,  Love  of  Home,  etc.  ;  or  {e) 
Religious,  when  entertained  toward  the  Deity,  as  Piety, 
or  devotion  to  God. 

(2)  According  to  their  Quality. — It  is  evident  that  Af- 
fections have  qualities,  a  tendency  to  benefit  or  injure 
their  objects.  We  have,  therefore,  according  to  this 
principle  of  division,  two  classes  of  Affections  :  (1)  the 


SENTIMENTS.  ^95 

Benevolent,  or  those  of  well-wishing ;  and  (2)  the  Malev- 
olent, or  those  of  ill-wishing. 

(3)  According  to  their  Modes  of  Origin. — Some  Affec- 
tions originate  withont  any  other  cause  than  an  inherent 
tendency  in  our  natures  to  entertain  them.  A  mother's 
love  for  her  child  is  of  this  kind.  It  does  not  depend  so 
much  upon  the  character  of  the  child  as  uj^on  the  nature 
of  the  mother.  Other  Affections  originate  from  some 
consideration  offered  by  the  Intellect  as  a  reason  for  its 
existence.  An  affection  for  a  worthy  cause  is  of  this  kind. 
As  to  their  origin,  then,  we  have  two  kinds  of  Affection  : 
(1)  Natural,  and  (2)  Rational  Affections. 

3.   The  Voluntary  Element  in  Affection. 

While  the  Natural  Affections  have  much  of  the  spon- 
taneous character  of  Emotions  and  Desires,  there  is  in  all 
Affection  a  voluntary  element.  Wishing  well  or  wishing 
ill  enters  into  the  very  nature  of  Affection.  The  Affec- 
tions, therefore,  are  esteemed  the  best  tests  of  personal 
character  and  of  personal  relation.  As  universal  Benevo- 
lence is  required  and  every  form  of  Malevolence  is  cen- 
sured by  the  highest  morality,  the  Affections  are  taken  as 
the  evidences  of  the  virtuous  or  vicious  elements  in  char- 
acter. Affection  naturally  leads  up  to  the  examination 
of  Will,  for  it  is,  preeminently,  feeling  directed  by  Will. 
We  speak  of  '^''placing"  the  Affections  uj^on  one  or  an- 
other object,  but  not  of  "  placing  "  the  Emotions.  Hence, 
the  objects  of  Love  are  viewed  as  ^^ chosen.'' 

After  stating  that  in  mere  emotion  there  is  excitement  without 
choice,  McCosh  says:  "Affection  does  not  deserve  the  name  of  love 
which  mounts  no  higher  than  mere   feeling.     In  all  genuine  love 


296  PSYCHOLOGY. 

there  is  well-wishing,  tliere  is  benevolence.  We  wish  well,  what  we 
believe  to  be  good,  toward  the  person  beloved.  In  love,  we  would 
do  good  to  our  neighbor,  we  would  promote  the  glory  of  God.  To 
bring  out  this,  we  may  distinguish  between  love  considered  as  mere 
attachment,  which  we  may  call  the  love  of  complacency,  and  love 
considered  as  well-wishing,  that  is,  benevolence.  The  former  is 
mere  emotion,  which  may  or  may  not  be  virtuous.  The  latter  is  an 
act  of  our  voluntary  nature,  and  is  a  virtue,  is  the  very  highest 
virtue, — 'the  greatest  of  these  is  charity.' "  ^ 

4.    The  Principal  Types  of  Affection, 

It  is  impossible  to  enumerate  and  distinguish  all  the 
Affections  of  the  human  soul.  We  can  accomplish  every 
important  psychological  purp)ose,  however,  by  considering 
the  leading  types.  These  are  best  described  antithetically, 
by  contrasting  each  benevolent  with  its  opposite  malevo- 
lent form.  We  shall,  accordingly,  mention  the  following 
opposites  :  (1)  Love  and  Hate,  (2)  Gratitude  and  Ingrati- 
tude, (3)  Trust  and  Suspicion,  (4)  Pity  and  Contemi^t. 

(1)  Love  and  Hate. — These  are,  respectively,  the  generic 
forms  of  benevolent  and  malevolent  Affection.  Love  seeks 
to  benefit,  and  Hate  seeks  to  injure  its  object.  Both  words, 
however,  are  used  with  great  latitude  of  meaning.  Some- 
times Love  hardly  exceeds  admiration  and  approval,  and 
Hate  sometimes  implies  only  dislike  and  disapprobation. 
Love  ranges  through  the  wide  scale  of  kindly  feelings 
toward  well-disposed  and  faithful  domestic  animals,  the 
innumerable  shades  of  personal  feelings, — friendly,  fra- 
ternal, parental,  filial  and  conjugal, — up  to  the  devotion 
of  the  whole  soul  to  the  will  and  service  of  the  Creator. 
Hate  assumes  also  a  great  variety  of  forms  from  passing 
Anger,  which  is  more  than  an  emotion  because  it  reacts  on 
an  object,  to  Revenge,  which  is  a  deliberate  determination 


SENTIMENTS.  297 

to  injure  in  retaliation  for  an  injury  received.  It  also  em- 
braces such  special  forms  as  Envy,  which  is  hatred  of 
another  because  of  his  success  and  good  fortune,  and 
Jealousy,  which  is  a  feeling  of  hatred  felt  toward  another 
person  because  of  his  su2:)posed  success  in  withdrawing 
from  ourselves  an  affection  which  we  have  possessed  or 
desired.  All  Hate  incites  to  injury,  but  in  most  natures 
it  is  brought  within  the  influence  of  counteracting  mo- 
tives, and  the  element  of  actual  injury  may  be  softened 
into  ill-will.  In  the  noblest  natures  it  is  reduced  to  mere 
Indignation,  which  is  a  strong  feeling  of  the  unworthi- 
ness  of  an  injurious  act  and  of  the  person  who  has  per- 
formed it. 

It  is  natural  for  men  to  love  their  friends  and  hate  their  enemies. 
The  Christian  summary  of  moral  law  enforces  the  obligation  of  uni- 
versal love.  It  presents  herein  an  ideal  confessedly  too  high  for 
ordinary  human  nature  to  accept  and  regard  without  a  great  moral 
elevation.  It  implies  a  recognition  of  personality  and  brotherhood 
in  all  men  and  a  willingness  to  carry  out  this  recognition  in  all  the 
details  of  life.  It  implies  an  identification  of  one's  self  with  hu- 
manity. This  is  difficult  for  man,  as  a  mere  sentient  organism. 
The  mere  animal  cannot  identify  himself  with  his  species.  As  an 
animal  he  is  simply  an  individual.  But  man,  as  a  being  of  intel- 
ligence and  moral  nature,  is  not  merely  an  individual.  He  becomes 
man  only  in  society.  Love  appears  first  in  the  family,  then  in  the 
tribe,  then  in  the  nation,  only  at  last  in  the  whole  world.  Even  con- 
jugal affection  plays  but  a  small  part  in  the  most  ancient  literature. 
Woman  is  represented  as  the  servant  and  solace  only  of  man,  not  as 
his  companion.  Even  among  the  Romans  down  to  the  Christian  era, 
the  child  who  was  feeble  or  deformed  was  exposed  to  death  by  his 
father.  It  is  an  historic  certainty  that  a  new  idea  of  man  began  to 
prevail  wherever  Christianity  was  introduced.  Women  and  children 
have  been  recognized  as  having  rights  which  arise  from  personality. 
Only  persons  have  rights.  Love  seeks  the  well-being  of  its  objects. 
A  wider  love  of  men  has  established  the  rights  of  men.     Human 


298  PSYCHOLOGY. 

well-being  is  attained  only  when  each  one  has  his  rights.  Love, 
therefore,  is  realized  only  in  the  light  of  law,  which  is  the  definition 
of  rights.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  Christ  snms  up  the  law  as  con- 
sisting finally  in  love,  which  is  the  "  fulfilling  of  the  law." 

(2)  Gratitude  and  Ingratitude. — Gratitude,  or  thankful- 
ness^ is  a  feeling  of  reciprocity,  or  disposition  to  make 
return,  in  good  will  at  least,  for  kindness  shown  by  an- 
other. The  sentiment  may  exist  without  the  ability  or 
the  opportunity  to  render  service  in  return,  but  is  want- 
ing where  there  is  no  disposition  to  reciprocate  when  the 
occasion  does  j^resent  itself.  Even  the  nobler  animals  are 
capable  of  it,  which  makes  it  the  more  remarkable  that  it 
should  be  so  often  lacking  in  man.  Its  opposite.  Ingrati- 
tude, is  usually  detested  as  a  form  of  meanness  indicating 
the  utmost  poverty  of  soul. 

A  wit  has  defined  Gratitude  as  "a  lively  sense  of  benefits  to 
conie,"  implying  that  it  is  simply  an  egoistic  tact.  Whatever  evi- 
dence of  this  a  careful  study  of  human  actions  may  afford,  the  sen- 
timent of  gratitude  as  experienced  by  those  capable  of  it  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  gracious  expectancy  of  benefit.  It  is  not  so  noble  as 
love,  because  it  rests  on  a  reason,  a  benefit  received,  which  derives 
its  force  from  our  own  increased  happiness.  Because  it  is  not  so 
noble,  it  is  more  to  be  expected  and  more  missed  when  it  is  due  and 
not  rendered.  It  is  this  that  makes  ingratitude  seem  base  where  the 
lack  of  love  would  seem  endurable.  The  bitterness  of  unrequited 
love  is  largely  owing  to  the  feeling  that  where  much  has  been  be- 
stowed something  is  to  be  expected.  The  justness  of  this  sentiment 
of  love  blended  with  a  supposed  claim  for  requital  depends  upon 
what  has  been  accepted.  If  we  lavish  upon  others  what  they  do  not 
wish,  it  is  not  just  to  call  them  ungrateful.  The  whole  responsi- 
bility for  the  exercise  of  affection  rests  upon  our  freedom  to  choose 
its  objects. 

(3)  Trust  and  Suspicion. — As  a  concomitant  of  the 
judgment  that  a  person  j^ossesses  a  true  character,  there 


SENTUIENTS.  299 

arises  a  feeling  of  confidence  in  his  conduct  and  purity  of 
motive.  This  leads  to  a  going  forth  of  the  soul  to  repose  in 
the  integrity  of  another  and  is  called  Trust.  Tliis  Affec- 
tion can  exist  only  when  the  proper  causes  of  it  are  believed 
to  be  present,  and  cannot  be  felt  toward  one  whose  conduct 
and  disposition  do  not  warrant  it.  The  opposite  of  Trust 
is  Suspicion.  It  is  often  a  source  of  great  injustice,  inas- 
much as  the  interpretation  of  motives,  on  which  it  is  often 
based,  is  a  difficult  and  uncertain  sphere  of  inference. 

The  word  "  Faith  "  involves  this  sentiment  of  trust  as  well  as 
mere  belief,  which  is  an  intellectual  act  (page  155).  It  is  the  volun- 
tary element  in  faith  that  gives  it  a  moral  character,  and  this  not  in 
the  act  of  trusting  as  such,  but  in  honoring  that  which  ought  to  be 
trusted.  Faith  thus  becomes  a  duty  and  suspici  )n  becomes  a  vice. 
We  ought  to  trust  that  which  is  trustworthy.  In  the  relations  of 
iiusband  and  wife,  parent  and  child,  brother  anc]  brother,  friend  and 
friend,  trust  deserves  to  be  awarded  in  proportion  to  proved  fidelity. 
It  is  because  of  this  that  we  speak  of  "low"  and  "base"  and 
"  mean"  suspicions,  implying  an  unworthines?  in  the  one  who,  with- 
out grounds,  suspects.  Our  faith  in  nature  ind  in  the  evidence  of 
our  senses  and  the  operations  of  our  faculties  f ests  upon  the  trust,  as 
it  has  been  well  expressed,  "that  the  Author  of  our  being  will  not 
put  us  to  permanent  intellectual  confusioi  ,"  Faith  in  God  is  a 
moral  obligation  resting  on  the  trustworthiii  ,ss  of  the  Creator,  whom 
we  dishonor  when  we  do  not  trust  Him.  low  far  we  may  be  held 
to  trust  the  representations  of  others  with  x  egard  to  all  matters,  de- 
pends upon  the  trustworthiness  which  they  Ocihibit  in  those  affairs  of 
which  we  have  some  knowledge  and  of  which  \):'e  can,  therefore,  judge. 

(4)  Pity  and  Contempt. — The  community  of  nature  be- 
tween man  and  man  creates  a  fellowship  of  feeling  between 
men.  When  a  misfortune  happens  to  one,  it  produces  in 
all  a  feeling  of  sympathy,  unless  there  is  some  strong 
counteracting  sentiment.  This  going  forth  of  sympathy 
toward  another,  with  a  disposition  to  alleviate  his  distress. 


300  PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  Pity.  It  implies  a  perception  of  worth,  either  actual  or 
possible,  in  its  object.  We  may  be  pained  through  our 
sympathies  when  others  endure  deserved  sufferings,  but 
we  do  not  really  pity  them,  unless  we  have  the  disposition 
to  help  them.  An  opposite  sentiment  is  entertained 
toward  those  whose  actions  are  below  the  dignity  of  hu- 
man nature.  This  is  Contempt.  We  may  entertain  it  for 
persons  as  well  as  for  their  acts,  but  the  perception  of 
higher  possibilities  even  in  contemptible  persons  often 
evokes  Pity  for  them  while  we  have  Contempt  for  their 
deeds  and  characters. 

The  same  object  excites  our  pity  or  our  contempt  according  to 
our  judgment  of  its  worthiness.  An  intoxicated  man,  who  has 
become  inebriated  through  the  deception  and  malicious  purpose  of 
others,  excites  our  pity.  One  who  has  deliberately  surrendei-ed  his 
reason  and  his  will  to  the  filth  of  the  gutter,  excites  our  contempt. 
In  so  far  as  one  is  a  victim  or  a  dupe,  we  pity  him ;  in  so  far  as  one 
is  the  conscious  and  purposive  cause  of  his  misfortune,  we  have  con- 
tempt for  him.  It  was  the  thought  that  society  itself  was  in  some 
way  responsible  for  the  crimes  and  degradation  of  men,  and  that 
under  each  marred  and  disfigured  human  shape  stirred  a  soul  with 
a  spark  of  divinity  within  it,  that  inspired  John  Howard  to  attempt 
his  philanthropic  mission  of  prison-reform.  Pity  is  benevolence  in 
the  presence  of  distress  that  is  undeserved.  Self-righteousness, 
thinking  that  no  misfortune  is  undeserved,  contemptuously  "passes 
by  on  the  other  side."  Humanity,  knowing  its  own  weakness,  has 
compassion  on  suffering,  and  bends  over  the  victim  of  misfortune 
with  a  tender  ministry  of  oil  and  wine,  sets  the  fallen  brother  on  its 
own  beast,  and  provides  shelter  and  protection.  The  soul  is  larger 
than  every  law  but  the  law  of  love,  and  that  is  a  shallow  Psychology 
which  does  not  measure  its  greatest  magnitude. 

5.  The  Polarity  of  AflPection. 

The  Affections,  as  we  have  seen,  are  polar.  Benevo- 
lence and  Malevolence    are    opposite  and  contradictory. 


SENTIMENTS.  301 

No  one  can  Ioyq  and  liate  the  same  object  at  the  same 
time.  Affection  has  no  equatorial  region.  There  are 
many  degrees  of  Affection,  and  personal  temperaments 
differ  in  energy ;  but,  generically,  there  are  but  two 
kinds.  Love  repelled  can  lead  only  to  Ilate.  Hate  de- 
stroyed can  lead  only  to  Love,  ^ye  may  be  luWiout-  Af- 
fection for  certain  objects  ;  but,  if  we  have  it,  it  is  of  one 
of  the  two  opposite  types.  A  personal  interest  once 
aroused  does  not  perish  quickly  ;  but  it  may  change  its 
character,  and  that  change  is  from  one  pole  to  its  opposite. 

Congreve's  lines,— 

"  Heaven  has  no  rage  like  love  to  hatred  turned, 
Nor  hell  a  fury  like  a  woman  scorned,"— 

are  too  strong  for  a  scientific  formula,  but  they  serve  to  show  the 
manner  in  which  the  poet  conceived  the  logic  of  feeling  in  its  quick 
transition  from  one  form  to  another.  All  literature  and  all  life 
illustrate  the  fundamental  truth  that  is  here  expressed.  Love  may 
linger  over  its  object  long  after  that  object  has  proved  unworthy, 
out  the  very  memory  of  a  really  dead  love  is  hateful  to  the  lover. 

6.  AfFection  and  Education. 

The  Affections  have  important  relations  to  education 

(1)  as  affording  a  basis  of  inspiration  and  influence,  and 

(2)  as  admitting  of  direction  and  training. 

(1)  Inspiration  and  Influence  of  Affections. — To  inspire 
and  influence  a  child,  is  to  create  love  in  his  heart.  It 
cannot  be  forced  under  compulsion,  it  must  be  lovingly 
elicited.  The  love  of  a  person  may  lead  to  the  love  of 
a  study.  Hence,  the  value  of  personal  affection  for  the 
teacher,  but  the  true  teacher  strives  to  awaken  love  for 
the  pursuit  itself.  Without  diligence,  there  can  be  no 
progress,  but  diligence  (from  the  Latin  diligere,  to  prefer) 
implies  a  preference. 


302  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2)  Direction  and  Training  of  the  Affections.— Guidance 

in  liie  exercise  of  the  affections  implies  a  preconceived 
ideal  of  human  nature,  to  which  the  affections  should  be 
conformed.  Assuming  that  benevolence  rather  than 
malevolence  of  character  is  the  ideal  to  be  attained,  let  us 
confine  ourselves  to  the  methods  of  training.  These  are 
Repression  and  Eiicitation.  As  no  affection  is  created  by 
mere  force,  so  it  cannot  be  destroyed  by  force.  The  con- 
fession of  it  may  be  silenced,  but  the  sentiment  remains. 
Eepression,  then,  should  not  be  direct.  An  affection  is 
changed  by  keeping  out  of  consciousness  the  qualities 
which  have  produced  it  and  by  bringing  into  conscious- 
ness other  qualities.  Dislike  for  a  person  is  removed  by 
keeping  out  of  mind  the  qualities  that  have  provoked  dis- 
like and  by  fixing  the  attention  upon  excellences.  The 
same  principles  apply  to  a  study.  Dislike  for  it  is  re. 
moved  and  love  for  it  is  elicited  by  presenting  it  in  such 
a  light  as  to  make  it  really  attractive. 

The  brilliant  German  writer,  Jean  Paul  Richter  (17G3-1825)  has 
given  some  suggestive  hints  upon  the  education  of  the  affections. 
He  says:  "  The  child  begins  with  selfishness  which  affects  us  as  little 
as  that  of  animals;  because  the  soul,  darkly  hidden  under  its  various 
wants,  cannot  yet  feel  its  way  to  anotlier,  but  incorporates  others,  so 
to  speak,  with  itself.  In  so  far  as  the  child  finds  nothing  lifeless 
without,  any  more  than  within  itself ;  it  spreads  its  soul  as  a  uni- 
versal soul  over  everything.  .  .  .  Love  in  the  child,  as  in  the  animal, 
exists  as  an  instinct ;  and  this  central  fire  frequently,  but  not  always, 
breaks  through  its  outer  crust  in  the  form  of  compassion.  A  child 
is  often  indifferent,  not  merely  to  the  sufferings  o^  animals  and  to 
those  of  persons  unconnected  with  himself  (except  when  the  cry  of 
pain  finds  an  echo  in  his  own  heart),  but  even  to  those  of  relatives. 
Innocent  children  will  frequently  find  pleasure  in  standing  on  the 
place  where  another  is  to  be  punished.  A  second  observation, 
founded  on  experience,  is,  that  boys,  when   approaching  near  to 


SENTIMENTS.  303 

manhood,  show  the  least  [benevolent]  affection,  the  most  love  of 
teasing,  the  greatest  destructiveness,  the  most  selfishness  and  cold- 
heartedness ;  jnst  as  the  coldness  of  the  night  increases  twofold 
shortly  before  the  rising  of  the  sun.  But  the  sun  comes  and  warms 
the  world ;  the  superabundance  of  power  becomes  love ;  the  strong 
stem  encloses  and  protects  the  pith;  the  teasing  lad  becomes  the 
affectionate  young  man.  The  other  observation  of  childish  heart- 
lessness,  recorded  above,  vanishes  in  the  very  opposite  quality  of 
tenderness,  so  soon  as  the  visible  pain  of  the  culprit,  by  its  increase, 
affects  the  child;  every  fresh  wound  makes  a  tearful  eye.  Conse- 
quently, there  is  not  so  much  need  to  ingraft  the  buds  of  affection, 
as  to  remove  the  moss  and  briars  of  selfishness  which  hide  them 
from  the  sun.  .  .  .  Wherever  a  pulse  beats,  a  heart  reposes  in  the 
background;  if  there  be  but  some  little  impulse  toward  love,  the 
whole  essence  of  love  lies  behind  it.  But  you  plant  the  selfish  weed, 
instead  of  eradicating  it,  if  in  the  presence  of  children,  you  pass 
contemptuous,  though  just  judgments,  on  your  neighbors,  or  even 
your  town.  How  else  can  the  child  learn  to  love  the  world  than  by 
learning  to  love  what  is  daily  around  him?  And  can  we  love  what 
we  despise  ?  ...  If  a  large  town  have  the  injurious  effect  on 
children's  hearts  of  compelling  them  to  assume  the  neutrality  of 
great  people,  because  so  many  of  whom  they  are  ignorant,  and  to 
whom  they  are  indifferent,  constantly  pass  before  them,  much  more 
must  a  village  harm  them  if  they  hate  and  despise  as  many  people  as 
they  know,  that  is  to  say,  everybody."^ 

In  tliis  section,   on  "Affection,"  we  have   consid-*, 
ered  :— 

1,  The  Nature  of  Affection, 

2,  The  Cldssificdtlou  of  Affections, 

3,  The  Voluntary  Element  in  Affection. 

4,  The  Principal  Types  of  Affection. 

5,  The  Polarity  of  Aff'ection. 

6,  Affection  and  Ecliicationo 

References  :  (1)  McCosh's    The  Emotions,    pp.    217,    218.      (2) 
Eichter's  Levana  ;  or,  the  Doctrine  of  Education,  pp.  339,  341. 


304 


PSYCEOLOQT. 


SBCTION  lY. 

THE    DEVELOPMENT   OF   SENSIBILITY. 
1.  Summary  of  Results. 

In  our  examination  of  the  different  ways  in  which 
Sensibility  is  affected,  we  have  discovered  many  kinds  of 
feeling  whicli  we  have  undertaken  to  classify.  We  must 
not,  however,  lose  sight  of  the  unity  that  underlies  this 
wide  diversity  of  sensitive  experience.  While  Sensibility 
is  differently  affected  by  various  objects  and  ideas,  it  is 
not  in  any  sense  a  product  of  these.  It  is  a  faculty  of  the 
soul  inherent  in  its  primary  constitution,  without  which 
feeling  of  any  kind  would  be  impossible.  We  may  sum- 
marize the  feelings  as  follows ; 


Sensations, 
in  the  form  of 


II. 


Sentiments, 
in  the  form  of 


f.  1    c     +•  r  (1)  Muscular, 

1.  Simple  Sentience,  i  ,^,  ^ 

^i-  1,  ;.  "^  (^)  Organic,  or 

which  is  i    /ox  a         •    1 

(^  (3)  Special; 

f  (1)  Natural, 

\  (2)  Acquired,  or 

[  (3)  Inherited. 

f  (1)  Egoistic, 

j  (2)  Esthetic, 

]  (3)  Ethical,  or 

[  (4)  Religious ; 

(  (1)  Personal,  or 

\  (2)  Social; 

j  (1)  Benevolent,  ol 

\  (2)  Malevolent. 


2.  Appetite, 
which  is 


1.  Emotion, 
which  is 


2.  Desire, 

which  is 

3.  Affection, 

which  is 


SENTUIENTS,  305 


2.  The  Stages  of  Feeling. 

The  kinds  of  feeling  enumerated  in  the  preceding 
scheme  appear  in  an  order  of  succession  and  the  higher 
forms  are  conditioned  upon  the  lower.  The  sensations,  or 
physical  feelings,  are  experienced  first  in  the  order  of 
time  ;  those  of  simple  sentience  being  the  earliest,  and 
the  most  rudimentary  of  the  natural  appetites  soon  ap- 
pearing. The  sentiments,  or  psychical  feelings,  are  not 
possible  until  the  Intellect  has  a  stock  of  ideas  of  which 
these  higher  forms  of  feeling  are  accompaniments.  As 
soon  as  ideas  and  judgments  are  formed,  emotions  are  ex- 
perienced as  the  concomitants  of  these.  When  feelings 
are  connected  ideally  with  certain  objects  which  produce 
them,  desires  are  awakened.  When  feelings  of  benevo- 
lence or  malevolence  are  directed  toward  objects  or  per* 
sons,  affections  arise.  Sensibility  reaches  these  successive 
stages  of  feeling  as  the  range  of  psychical  experience  ia 
extended. 

3.  The  Development  of  Sensibility. 

The  power  to  feel  is  evidently  capable  of  development 
as  new  conditions  for  its  exercise  are  afforded.  As  in  the 
case  of  Intellect,  however,  it  cannot  be  shown  that  Sensi- 
bility is  gradually  evolved  from  something  else.  It  ap- 
pears in  the  simplest  form  of  sensation,  not  as  a  result  of 
external  causes,  but  as  a  peculiar  power  in  the  sensitive 
subject.  The  Sensational  School  of  psychologists  has 
attempted  to  derive  all  the  higher  forms  of  feeling  from 
simple  sensations.  1  The  futility  of  this  attempt  is  evident 
to  any  one  who  has  carefully  followed  the  analysis  of  the 


B06  PSYCHOLOaY. 

feelings.    A  sentiment  is  not  a  transformed  sensation,  but 
a  new  form  of  feeling  attending  a  new  experience. 

4.  Habitual  Feeling-. 

The  repeated  experience  of  feelings  of  the  same  kind 
produces  habits  of  feeling.  When  these  become  fixed, 
they  form  dispositions  of  Sensibility,  tendencies  to  repeat 
more  readily  the  actions  which  produce  the  feelings  that 
have  become  habitual.  One  who  has  formed  the  habit  of 
experiencing  joyful  or  sorrowful,  hopeful  or  apprehensive, 
emotions,  finally  acquires  a  joyful  or  sorrowful,  a  hopeful 
or  timid,  disposition.  Such  dispositions  crave  exercise, 
and  hence  are  sometimes  called  propensities,  or  inclina- 
tions to  feel  and  act  in  certain  particular  ways.  The 
aggregate  of  these  propensities  constitutes  what  we  mean 
by  the  word  charactep. 

"  Ccenaesthesla,  or,  as  it  is  otherwise  called,  common  feeling,  seems 
to  arise  from  the  summation  and  cumulation  of  all  the  sensations  of 
all  the  sensitive  parts  of  the  body.  Any  one,  taken  by  itself,  is  very 
minute,  and  might  be  imperceptible.  Taken  together,  they  consti- 
tute the  sense  of  life,  of  vitality,  and  of  general  Men  aise,  or  malaise. 
They  seem  also  to  make  up  tlie  underlying  emotional  temperament 
of  the  individual  as  distinct  from  his  varying  moods  and  disposi- 
tions. They  also  serve  as  the  sensuous  basis,  which,  when  inter- 
preted, goes  to  determine  the  feeling  which  each  has  of  his  own 
individuality.  Any  sudden  or  abnormal  alteration  of  it  is  quite 
likely  to  result  in  some  disorder  of  individuality,  as  seen  in  insane 
persons,  who  imagine  themselves  to  be  Job,  Queen  Victoria,  Julius 
Cffisar,  etc.  These  feelings,  constituting  the  report  in  consciousness 
of  one's  body,  as  a  whole,  are  certainly  intimately  connected  with 
self.  They  are  constant,  continuous,  and  relatively  permanent. 
They  form  the  background  on  w^hich  other  feelings  display  them- 
selves. It  is  not  strange  that  their  disorder  should  be  accompanied 
with  results  otherwise  startling."*     The  doctrine  of   "tempera- 


SENTIMENTS.  307 

merits"    is  somewhat    fully  discussed    by    Ladd,     'Physiological 
Psychology,"  pp.  574,  579;  and  Lotze,  "Microcosmus,"  11.,  pp.  24 

et  seq. 

5.  Habitual  Expression. 

We  have  seen  that  every  emotion  has  its  characteristic 
mode  of  outward  expression.  Habitual  feelings  produce 
habitual  expressions.  The  face  and  figure  reveal  the  dom- 
inant feelings  of  the  soul,  and  thus  become  indexes  of  the 
inner  life.  There  is,  therefore,  a  foundation  for  a  science 
and  an  art  of  physiognomy,  or  of  judging  the  character  of 
a  person  by  his  facial  expression.  The  modifying  causes 
of  expression  are  so  numerous  and  complex,  however,  that 
there  is  wide  opportunity  for  erroneous  judgment  in  the 
interpretation  of  the  character  through  the  expression. 

In  stating  that  a  science  and  an  art  of  physiognomy  are  possible, 
it  is  not  intended  to  imply  that  either  a  true  science  or  a  trustworthy 
art  has  yet  been  attained.  The  plausibility  of  such  a  science  has 
conduced  to  the  success  of  the  most  superficial  and  unscientific 
charlatans  in  deceiving  people  who  have  been  willing  to  pay  for  such 
valuable  knowledge  as  the  science  of  reading  character  at  sight  would 
be  if  one  could  only  really  possess  it.  The  Swiss  writer,  Lavater 
(1741-1801),  who  wrote  extensively  upon  the  subject,  possessed  keen 
powers  of  observation,  much  learning,  and  considerable  insight  into 
character.  His  theories,  howevsr,  contain  much  that  is  purely  fan- 
ciful, and  of  this  he  himself  seemed  to  be  aware  before  the  close  of 
his  life.  The  practical  difiiculty  in  judging  of  character  by  the  out- 
W'ard  expression  is,  that  the  same  effects  are  produced  by  many  dif- 
ferent causes,  and,  as  all  such  judgment  depentls  upon  the  inference 
of  the  cause  from  the  effect,  we  are  constantly  liable  to  go  astray  by 
assigning  the  wrong  cause  to  a  given  facial  expression. 

6.  The  Inheritance  of  Feelings. 

That  certain  prevailing  feelings,  or,  more  precisely, 
tendencies  to  experience  certain  particular  feelings,  are 


308  PSYCHOLOGY. 

inherited,  is  beyond  all  doubt.  We  have  already  seen 
evidence  of  the  inheritance  of  certain  appetites  (page 
245).  Still,  from  the  great  complexity  of  the  feelings, 
the  proofs  of  heredity  are  not  so  clear  as  they  are  in  the 
case  of  Intellect.  Sentiments,  and  especially  emotional 
temperaments,  are  certainly  capable  of  transmission  from 
generation  to  generation. 

Maudsley  testifies  as  follows  to  the  distinct  inheritance  of  avarice: 
'*ln  several  instances  in  which  the  father  has  toiled  upwards  from 
poverty  to  vast  wealth,  with  the  aim  and  hope  of  founding  a  family, 
I  have  witnessed  the  results  in  a  mental  and  physical  degeneracy, 
which  has  sometimes  gone  as  far  as  the  extinction  of  the  family  in 
the  third  or  fourth  generation.  When  the  evil  is  not  so  extreme  as 
madness  or  ruinous  vice,  the  savor  of  a  mother's  influence  having 
been  present,  it  may  still  be  manifest  in  an  instinctive  cunning  and 
duplicity,  and  an  extreme  selfishness  of  nature — a  nature  not  having 
the  capacity  of  a  true  moral  conception  or  altruistic  feeling.  What- 
ever opinion  other  experimental  observers  may  hold,  I  cannot  but 
Jiiink  that  the  extreme  passion  for  getting  rich,  absorbing  the  whole 
energies  of  life,  does  predispose  to  mental  degeneration  in  the  off- 
spring— either  to  moral  defect,  or  to  intellectual  or  moral  deficiency, 
or  to  outbreaks  of  positive  insanity  under  the  conditions  of  life."  ^ 

In   this    section,  on  "The  Development   of  Sensi- 
bility," we  have  considered  :— 

1,  Suniniary  of  Results, 

2,  The  Stages  of  Feelhig. 

3,  The  Dc'velopitieut  of  Sensihility* 

4,  Habitual  Feeling. 

5,  Habitual  Expression, 

6,  The  Ifiheritance  of  Feelings. 

References  :  (1)  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psychology,  II.,  Part 
VIII.,  Chapter  II.  (2)  Dewey's  Psychology,  p.  76.  (3)  Maudshy'a 
Physiology  of  Mind,  p.  234. 


PART   III -WILL. 


1.  Definition  of  Will. 

Will  is  the  power  of  self-dipection,  or  of  acting  for  self- 
ehosen  ends.  It  cooperates  with  Intellect,  and  directs  it 
in  all  the  higher  processes  of  knowledge.  It  derives  its 
principal  ends  of  action  from  the  feelings  furnished  by 

Sensibility. 

Will  has  sometimes  been  confounded  with  psychical  activity  in 
general.^  It  has  also  been  identified  with  the  action  resulting  from 
the  operations  of  knowing  and  feeling.  ^  Both  of  these  notions  of 
Will  fail  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  consciousness.  We  possess  a 
power  tc  direct  our  knowing  powers  and  to  repress  certain  of  our 
feelings.  This  directing  power  is  Will.  Dewey,  whose  distinction 
between  knowledge  and  feeling  was  noticed  under  the  definition  of 
Sensibility  (page  221),  in  addition  to  the  definition  of  Will  quoted  in 
that  connection,  says:  "A  union  of  feeling  and  knowledge  in  one 
and  the  same  act  is  what  we  know  generally  as  Will."^  In  this,  as 
in  his  distinction  between  knowledge  and  feeling,  he  has  been  influ- 
enced by  a  supposed  objectivity  of  knowledge,  a  subjectivity  of  feel- 
ing, and  a  relation  between  them  which  he  calls  Will.  We  cannot 
thus  easily  draw  these  distinctions.  Knowledge,  as  we  have  shown, 
as  individual  experience,  is  subjective.  Consciousness  has  not  two 
"sides"  between  which  Will  is  simply  a  "relation."  Psychologic- 
ally, that  is,  as  revealed  in  consciousness.  Will  is  not  '*a  union  of 
feeling  and  knowledge*  in  one  and  the  same  act."  Will  is  the  power 
of  the  soul  to  direct  its  own  activity,  and  each  particular  act  of  di- 
rection is  a  volition.  Feeling  and  knowing  are,  undoubtedly, 
united  in  the  same  state  of  consciousness, — ^that  is,  as  subordinate 
elements  of  the  same  general  state  of  consciousness, — whenever  any 
rtct  of  volition  is  performed,  but  Will  is  not  this  "union."    We 


310  PSYCHOLOGY. 

need,  however,  to  avoid  the  hypostasis  of  this  faculty,  as  if  it  were 
a  power  separate  from  and  above  the  conscious  soul,  playing  the 
]nirt  of  a  sovereign  ruler  over  it.  It  is  the  soul  itself  exercising 
self-direction. 

2.  The  Study  of  Will  Psycliological. 

We  can  discover  the  nature  and  limits  of  Will  only  by  a 
psychological  method  of  study,  that  is,  by  the  examination 
of  consciousness.  The  temj)tation  is  very  strong  to  study 
Will  mainly  from  the  side  of  bodily  manifestations,  be- 
cause action  is  so  much  more  readily  observed  when  it  is 
external.  If,  however,  we  study  Will  through  physical 
motion,  we  shall  never  understand  it ;  for  we  shall  never 
get  beyond  matter  in  motion,  which  is  wholly  different 
from  an  act  of  Will. 

If  we  begin  with  the  idea  of  a  balance  in  the  opposite  scales  oi 
which  weights  are  thrown,  and  regard  these  weights  as  representing 
"motives"  having  different  degrees  of  power  to  affect  the  position 
of  the  scales, — we  shall  end  with  the  conclusion  that  the  "most 
powerful  motive  will  prevail " ;  and  we  shall  think  of  Will  as  wholly 
determined  by  the  play  of  physical  forces.  But  this  is  merely  amus- 
ing ourselves  with  figurative  language  and  deceptive  analogies.  A 
true  psychological  analysis  shows  us  that  such  figures,  borrowed 
from  the  physical  world,  have  no  more  relation  to  the  problem  of 
self-direction  through  acts  of  volition  than  imaginary  battles  be- 
tween mythical  gods  and  goddesses.  The  subject  is  primarily  psy- 
chological, and  should  be  treated  in  the  light  of  the  facts  of  con- 
sciousness. If  consciousness  cannot  be  trusted  to  report  faithfully 
how  far  our  acts  are  self-determined,  we  have  no  right  to  employ  it 
for  any  scientific  purpose  whatever,  and  all  science  ends  in  universal 
skepticism. 

3.  Two  Modes  of  Action. 

There  are  two  modes  of  action  which  are  distinguished 
in  every  language  and  by  every  person  as  being  widely 


TT/iA  311 

different.  Tliey  are  :  (1)  Involuntary  Action,  or  snch  as 
occurs  without  our  conscious  determination ;  and  (2) 
Voluntary  Action,  or  such  as  occurs  with  a  conscious  deter- 
mination of  the  souh  In  action  of  the  first  kind.  Will  is 
not  an  element.  In  action  of  the  second  kind.  Will  is  the 
directing  cause.  The  difference  between  these  two  kinds 
of  action  is  not  that  we  are  unconscious  of  involuntary, 
and  conscious  of  voluntary,  action.  We  are  conscious  of 
both.  The  difference  is  that  we  are  not  conscious  of 
directing  involuntary  action  for  any  end,  and  we  are  con- 
scious of  directing  voluntary  action  for  some  end,  or  pur- 
pose.  The  words  ^^unintentional"  and  ^^intentional," 
'^non-purposive"  and  '^ purposive,"  assist  in  marking 
this  distinction.  Let  us,  then,  consider  those  actions  in 
which  Will  is  not  present,  and  afterward  those  in  which 
Will  is  the  directing  cause  ;  or, — 

(1)  Involuntary  Actions,  and 
(3)  Voluntary  Actiotis, 

References  :  (1)  Sully's  Psychology,  p.  572.     (2)  Bain's  Emc 
iinns  and  the  Will^  pp.  310,  311.    (3)  Dewey's  Psychology,  p.  347. 


CHAPTHH    I. 

INVOLUNTARY    ACTION. 

DIVISION    OF   THE   SUBJECT. 

A  complete  survey  of  Involuntary  Actions  involves 
notice  of  (1)  The  Motor  Mechanism,  (2)  Instinctive  Action, 
and  (3)  Acquired  Action.  These  are  the  topics  of  the 
following  sections. 


SECTION  I. 

THE    MOTOR    MECHANISM. 

1.  Structure  of  the  Motor  Mechanism. 

The  bodily  organism  serves  both  for  the  reception  of 
sense-impressions  through  its  sense-organs,  which  have 
been  described,  and  for  the  communication  of  motion  to 
the  external  world.  It  is  not  only  a  sensor,  but  a  motor, 
mechanism.  The  body  consists  of  bones,  muscles,  and 
nerves  so  combined  as  to  bring  the  conscious  self  into  re- 
lation with  the  material  world.  The  bones  of  the  skeleton 
(Figure  22,  1,  6,  7)  furnish  the  levers,  fulcrums,  and 
points  of  muscular  attachment  necessary  to  mechanical 
effects.  The  muscles  (Figure  22,  2,  4)  supply  connections 
between  these  articulated  bones  and  also  contain^  stored 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  313 

up  in  their  tissues,  contractile  energy  which,  when  re- 
leased by  the  disturbance  of  its  equilibrium,  serves  to 
move  the  bones.  The  nerves  of  motion,  or  motor  nerves, 
are  fibres  running  from  the  brain  and  other  centres 
(Figure  1)  to  the  muscles,  in  which  they  terminate,  and 
serve  to  stimulate  to  action  the  contractile  energy  stored 
up  in  the  latter.  The  motor  mechanism  thus  forms  a 
medium  for  reaction  upon  the  outer  world  in  coordina- 
tion with  the  sensor  mechanism  for  receiving  sensations 
from  without. 

The  amount  of  physical  energy  which  the  motor  mechanism  is 
capable  of  putting  forth  depends  upon  what  is  stored  up  in  the 
muscles.  It  is  not  created  at  the  moment  when  it  is  used,  but  is  the 
product  of  previous  organic  processes.  The  action  of  the  nerve 
upon  the  muscle  may  be  compared  to  the  action  of  a  lighted  match, 
upon  a  powder-magazine.  It  does  not  create  the  force,  but  simply 
sets  it  free.  We  must  not,  therefore,  think  of  the  muscular  force  as 
derived  from  the  nerve.  An  amount  of  nervous  motion  sufficient  to 
stir  a  filament  of  the  finest  down  may  be  sufficient  to  explode  a 
muscular  discharge  that  will  knock  down  a  man.  These  forces  have 
not  been  accurately  measured,  but  the  illustration  serves  to  illustrate 
the  point  that  muscular  energy  is  simply  liberated,  not  generated,  by 
the  vibratory  motion  of  a  motor  nerve. 

2.  Kinds  of  Motor  Activity. 

The  motor  mechanism  is  never  wholly  at  rest.  Many  of 
the  bodily  processes,  like  digestion,  the  movements  of  the 
heart,  and  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  are  controlled  by 
a  system  of  forces  with  which  the  sensor-motor  aj^paratus 
has  little  to  do.  But  this  apj)aratus  is  caj)able  of  motion 
also  without  either  consciousness  or  volition.  For  ex- 
ample, if  we  tickle  the  foot  of  a  person  asleep,  he  draws  it 
away  without  waking.     The  impression  sent  in   by  the 


314  PSYCHOLOGY. 

sensor  nerves  is  communicated  to  the  motor  nerves  at  the 
centre  where  the  sensor  and  motor  nerves  are  connected, 
and  the  motion  in  the  sensor  nerves  is  translated  into 
motion  in  the  muscles,  without  consciousness.  This  is 
called  reflex  action.  Sometimes  the  same  kind  of  motion 
is  made  when  the  person,  being  awake,  is  conscious  of  it, 
but  is  not  the  cause  of  it ;  as  when  a  person's  hand  is 
touched  with  the  point  of  a  pin  and  suddenly,  without 
intention,  yet  consciously,  drawn  away.  This  is  called 
sensopi- motor  action,  to  distinguish  it  from  reflex  action. 
Both  reflex  and  sensori-motor  actions  are  often  very  com- 
plicated. Walking,  running,  playing  on  musical  instru- 
ments, etc.,  are  often  attended  with  very  little  self -direc- 
tion. But  these  complicated  actions  are,  as  we  shall  see, 
all  acquired.  In  both  these  cases,  the  motor  impulses 
seem  to  be  derived  from  the  sensor  impressions  without 
the  intervention  of  self -direct  ion.  There  is  also  a  third 
kind  of  involuntary  action.  As  we  have  seen  in  discuss- 
ing the  Emotions  (page  263),  it  is  possible  for  the  percep- 
tion of  incongruity  to  produce  laughter  by  the  involuntary 
reaction  of  the  idea  upon  the  organism.  This  is  called  ideo- 
'Jiotop  action.    All  these  modes  of  action  are  involuntary. 

We  have  later  on  to  distinguish  between  actions  of  the  kinds  just 
described  which  are  original  and  those  which  are  acquired.  We 
Bhall  see  that  many  of  these  were  voluntary  actions  before  they 
became  automatic.  We  shall  ultimately  arrive  at  greater  clearness 
in  the  comprehension  of  voluntary  actions  by  eliminating  from  them 
\hese  involuntary  actions  which  are  so  often  confounded  with  them 
and,  being  taken  for  them,  give  to  all  our  actions  the  appearance  of 
physical  necessity.  If  a  decapitated  frog  can  rub  acid  off  his  leg 
when  he  has  no  consciousness  of  pain  from  it,  it  is  because  provision 
is  made  in  his  organization  for  very  complicated  involuntary  actions. 
If  the  postman  of  Halle,  made  famous  by  Hamilton,^  could  walk  a 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  315 

Jong  distance  when  actually  asleep,  and  waken  only  when  his  foot 
struck  the  rising  ground  at  the  end  of  the  plain  over  which  he  walked 
while  asleep,  certainly  many  of  our  daily  actions  may  be  regarded  as 
involuntary.  If  a  well-disposed  and  sympathetic  person  can  be  so 
indecorous  as  to  burst  out  laughing  at  some  comical  occurrence  amid 
the  solemnities  of  a  funeral,  the  involuntary  operations  of  both  mind 
and  body  deserve  to  be  carefully  studied.  It  is  not  by  ignoring 
these  phenomena  that  we  shall  ever  come  to  understand  voluntary 
action,  but  by  making  their  character  perfectly  distinct,  in  order 
that,  when  the  lines  of  distinction  are  clearly  drawn,  we  may  dis- 
cover how  a  really  voluntary  action  differs  from  all  of  these.  Those 
who  would  throw  doubt  upon  these  complicated  reflex  actions,  or 
withhold  them  from  view  through  fear  that  such  evidence  will  prove 
that  we  are  merely  automata  wholly  in  the  power  of  physical  forces, 
have  most  need  to  subject  them  to  exact  analysis,  in  order  that 
voluntary  action  may  have  an  opportunity  of  vindicating  its  real 
nature. 

3.  Psychical  Control  of  the  Motor  Mechanism. 

The  soul  is  conscious  of  two  distinct  modes  of  control 
over  the  motor  mechanism.     These  are  : 

(1)  Innervation. — This  is  the  process  of  concentrating 
energy  upon  a  given  point.  The  force  of  the  muscles 
may  he  thrown  into  a  grasp  of  the  hand  hy  a  volition,  or 
self-directing  act,  so  as  to  give  it  a  stronger  grip.  By 
fixing  the  attention  upon  certain  parts  of  the  body  the 
blood  may  be  directed  to  those  parts.  As  we  have  seen  in 
the  study  of  Phantasy,  a  psychical  reaction  can  reinstate 
some  of  the  conditions  of  original  perception  and  thus  re- 
produce an  image  (page  90).  In  these  cases  there  is 
consciousness  of  self-directing  action  for  an  end. 

(2)  Inhibition. — This  is  the  process  of  arresting  actions 
that  tend  to  occur  involuntarily  in  one  of  the  three  modes 
described.  Thus,  a  patient  in  the  midst  of  a  dental 
operation  has  a  tendency  to  cry  out  and  leap  from  the 


316  PSTCBOLOOT. 

chair.  A  strong  volition  can  sometimes  prevent  tlie  cry 
and  the  springing  from  the  chair.  Even  when  it  fails, 
we  consciously  know  that  self-directing  power  has  been 
exerted.  By  this  power  of  inhibition  we  can  sometimes 
prevent  the  rising  of  ideas  which  tend  to  arise  in  con- 
sciousness, and  thus  anticipate  and  neutralize  a  result  that 
would  otherwise  follow.  Both  these  processes,  however, 
frequently  fail,  and  when  they  do,  we  say  that  the  result- 
ing action  is  involuntary. 

Without  attempting  at  this  point  to  determine  the  nature  of  the 
innervating  and  inhibitory  powers,  we  may  call  attention  to  their 
importance  by  a  physical  illustration.  "The  processes  w^hich  pro- 
duce voluntary  motion  begin  by  being  a  purely  psychical  excitation 
and  insensibly  become,  by  the  natural  play  of  the  organic  machinery, 
a  physical  excitation.  In  thus  becoming  transformed  in  their  suc- 
cessive evolution,  they  present  the  fascinating  picture  we  constantly 
see  presented  to  us  in  the  working  of  steam-engines.  We  see,  in  fact, 
m  this  case,  how  a  force,  slight  at  its  commencement,  is  capable  of 
being  transformed,  and  becoming  by  means  of  the  series  of  appara- 
tus it  sets  at  work,  the  occasion  of  a  gigantic  development  of  me- 
chanical power.  In  fact,  at  the  moment  when  the  engine  begins  to 
work,  a  very  slight  force,  the  mere  intervention  of  the  hand  of  the 
engine-driver  who  turns  a  handle  and  lets  the  steam  rush  against  the 
upper  surface  of  the  piston,  would  suffice  for  this.  This  active 
force,  once  at  liberty,  immediately  develops  its  strength,  which  is 
proportional  to  the  surface  over  which  it  extends ;  the  piston  falls, 
its  rod  draws  down  the  beam;  the  power  is  developed  as  the  fly- 
wheel revolves,  and  the  initial  movement,  so  weak  at  its  commence- 
ment, amplifies  and  increases  continually,  in  proportion  as  the 
volume  and  power  of  the  mechanical  appliances  placed  at  its  dis- 
posal become  more  considerable  and  more  powerful.  "^ 

4.  The  Limitations  of  the  Motor  Mechanism. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  limitation  to  the  activity  of  the 
motor  mechanism.     There  are  (1)  limitations  of  structure 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  317 

in  the  length,  strength,  and  articulation  of  the  bones ;  in 
the  size,  fibrous  texture,  and  terminal  attachments  of  the 
muscles,  and  in  the  quality  and  fineness  of  the  nervous 
centres  and  connections.  There  are  also  (2)  [imitations  of 
energy.  The  supply  of  physical  force,  both  muscular  and 
nervous,  is  a  variable  quantity.  It  is  conditioned  upon 
nutrition,  health  and  exercise.  There  are  times  when  one 
is  stripped  of  all  executive  power.  But  none  of  these 
limitations  affects  volition.  We  may  will  to  act  without 
being  able  to  act. 

5.   The  Motor  Meclianisin  and  Education. 

The  motor  mechanism  is  capable  of  training.  Its  per- 
fection is  the  aim  of  jDhysical  culture.  Modern  Physiology 
has  shown  both  the  necessity  and  the  methods  of  this 
branch  of  education,  and  its  importance  is  at  the  present 
day  very  generally  realized.  The  value  of  specific  gym- 
nastic exercises,  under  competent  direction,  needs  not  to 
be  insisted  upon.  The  spontaneous  play  of  the  motor 
powers  in  early  childhood  is  closely  connected  with  the 
acquisition  of  sense-knowledge,  and  movement,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  essential  to  the  development  of  Sense-perception. 

In  this  section,  on  the   "Motor   Mechanism,"  we 
have  considered:— 

1,  Structure  of  the  Motor  Mechanism, 

2,  Kinds  of  Motor  Activity, 

3,  Fsychical  Control  of  the  Motor  3Iechanisfn, 

4,  The  L/hnitations  of  the  Motor  3Iechanisni, 

5,  The  Motor  Mechatilsni  and  Education, 

References:  (1)  Hamilton's  Metaphysics,  p.  233.  (3)  J.  Luys's 
The  Brain  and  its  Functions,  pp.  326,  327. 


31S  PSYCHOLOGY. 


SECTION  II. 

INSTINCTIVE    ACTION. 
1.  Definition  of  Instinctive  Action. 

Instinctive  action  is  action  to  which  the  agent  is  im= 
pelled  by  some  impulse  derived  from  his  natural  constitu- 
tion, without  knowing  the  cause  or  the  iDurjDose  of  the 
action.  The  tendency  to  act  in  this  manner  is  called 
''instinct"  (from  the  Latin  instindus,  instigation). 
Such  actions,  although  they  do  not  originate  from  any 
conscious  purpose  of  the  agent,  have  an  end ;  which  is  the 
sjonservation  either  of  the  individual  or  of  the  species  to 
which  he  belongs. 

The  nature  and  origin  of  instinct  have  been  much  discussed  by 
Naturalists  and  have  provoked  much  disagreement.  Spencer  says; 
Instincts  are  cases  of  "compound  reflex  action"  resulting  from 
"organized  and  inherited  habits."*  He  seems  to  overlook  the  fact 
that  before  "habits"  could  be  "organized"  and  "inherited"  an 
organism  must  have  existed  already  endowed  with  instincts,  at  least 
with  the  instincts  of  self-preservation  and  self- propagation.  Lewes 
holds  that  all  instincts  are  cases  of  "  lapsed  intelligence."  ^  Darwin 
says:  "I  will  not  attempt  any  definition  of  instinct."^  He  adds: 
"An  action,  which  we  ourselves  require  experience  to  enable  us  to 
perform,  when  performed  by  an  animal,  more  especially  by  a  very 
young  one,  without  experience,  and  when  performed  by  many  in- 
dividuals in  the  same  way,  without  their  knowing  for  what  purpose 
it  is  performed,  is  usually  said  to  be  instinctive."  ^  And  again,  "If 
we  suppose  any  habitual  action  to  become  inherited — and  it  can  be 
shown  that  this  does  sometimes  happen — then  the  resemblance  be- 
tween what  was  originally  a  habit  and  an  instinct  becomes  so  close 
as  not  to  be  distinguished.  .  .  .  But  it  would  be  a  serious  error  to 
suppose  that  the  greater  number  of  instincts  have  been  acquired  by 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION,  319 

habit  in  one  generation,  and  tlien  transmitted  by  inheritance  to  .suc- 
ceeding generations."  ^  George  J.  Romanes  (1848-  ),  a  Canadian 
naturalist  resident  in  England,  has  treated  the  subject  of  Instinct 
very  fully.  He  criticises  very  minutely  all  the  other  writers  just 
named.  His  own  definition  of  instinct  is,  "  reflex  action  into  which 
there  is  imported  the  element  of  consciousness."  ^  All  these  discus- 
sions tend  to  show  what  chaos  naturalists  would  make  of  Psychology 
if  they  followed  a  strictly  objective  method,  without  any  appeal  to 
consciousness. 

2.  Characteristics  of  Instinct. 

That  there  is  in  man,  but  much  more  distinctly  in  the 
lower  animals,  a  tendency  to  act  instinctively,  there  is  no 
doubt.  It  is  best,  therefore,  to  adhere  strictly  to  this 
clear  idea  and  not  to  confuse  the  mind  with  refinements. 
There  are,  however,  certain  characteristics  of  instinct  as 
it  appears  in  animal  life  concerning  which  naturalists  are 
in  substantial  agreement.     They  are  as  follows : 

(1)  Ignorance  of  the  end. — When  a  child  instinctively 
takes  nourishment,  impelled  by  the  impulse  of  hunger,  it 
has  no  knowledge  of  the  repair  of  the  bodily  waste  as  the 
natural  end  of  its  action. 

(2)  Absolute  fatality. — Instinctive  actions  belong  to  the 
order  of  purely  organic  actions  and  are,  therefore,  phys- 
ically necessary.  They  result  from  organic  causes  which 
operate  according  to  physical  laws  and  are  entirely  beyoncl 
the  sphere  of  choice. 

(3)  General  uniformity. — The  instinctive  actions  of  all 
the  individuals  of  the  same  species  are  the  same.  It  is 
through  his  knowledge  of  their  instincts  that  man  be- 
comes master  of  the  lower  animals.  He  uses  these  in- 
stincts as  he  does  physical  forces  and  depends  upon  their 
universality  and  uniformity  \n  the  species. 


320  PSYCHOLOOT, 

(4)  Priority  to  experience. — An  instinctive  action  does 
not  need  to  be  learned.  It  is  perfectly  performed  the  first 
time,  without  observation  or  imitation.  The  bird  builds 
its  nest,  the  honey-bee  constructs  its  honey-comb,  the 
young  duck  takes  to  the  water  and  swims,  without  any 
lessons. 

Many  naturalists  hold  that  instinct  is  derived  from  experience,  > 
that  is,  from  ancestral,  not  individual,  experience.  Let  us  take  the 
case  of  the  necrophore,  or  sexton-bee.  Although  this  insect  dies  in 
giving  being  to  its  larva,  it  prepares  for  that  larva,  which  it  will 
never  see,  an  animal  food  which  it  never  uses  itself,  since  it  subsists 
on  plants.  What  has  taught  the  necrophore  to  make  this  provision 
for  its  offspring?  No  one  of  its  ancestors  has  ever  seen  its  progeny. 
It  has  never  observed  this  action  in  others  of  its  kind.  Here  is  a 
typical  case  of  instinct,  imperative  and  universal,  but  unaccom- 
panied with  intelligence  of  its  own  end.  Here  is  neither  "  organized 
and  inherited  habit"  nor  "lapsed  intelligence,"  but  a  series  of 
actions  springing  out  of  the  natural  constitution  of  the  agent,  related 
V)  an  end,  but  unconscious  of  it. 


3.  Instinct  and  Intelligence. 

Without  disputing  about  names,  there  are  two  kinds  of 
action  entirely  antithetical.  Instinctive  action,  as  we 
have  seen,  is  action  without  consciousness  of  an  end.  In- 
telligent action  is  action  for  a  consciously  known  end. 
In  so  far  as  an  agent  acts  without  knowing  for  what  end 
he  is  acting,  his  action  is  non-intelligent.  Instinct  and 
Intelligence  are,  therefore,  directly  opi:>osite.  In  so  far  as 
we  act  from  instinct,  we  do  not  act  from  intelligence. 
In  so  far  as  we  act  from  intelligence,  we  do  not  act 
from  instinct.  In  the  animals  below  man,  instinct 
predominates  over  intelligence.  In  man,  intelligence 
predominates  over  instinct.     They  exist   in   an   inverse 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  321 

ratio.     Being  opposite   principles,  they  are  not  derived 
from  each  other. 

We  have  seen  (page  44)  that  the  lower  animals  are  born  with  an 
almost  complete  adaptation  for  the  performance  of  their  life  func- 
tions, while  man  in  infancy  possesses  the  least  of  automatic  adapta- 
tion to  the  conditions  of  life.  "Important  reasons  suggest  them- 
selves," says  Porter,  "why  the  animal  is  taught  and  impelled  by 
instinct  to  do  at  once,  and  with  little  exposure  to  failure,  what  man 
can  attain  only  by  slow  and  painful  acquisition,  and  at  the  risk  of 
many  failures  and  sufferings.  The  discipline  to  which  man  is  sub- 
jected has  respect  to  his  moral  culture  as  well  as  to  his  intellectual 
perfection  and  success.  He  needs  to  learn  patience,  caution,  fore- 
sight, self -distrust,  and  circumspection,  as  well  as  the  higher 
virtues.  All  of  these  are  furthered  by  the  processes  through  which 
he  must  pass  in  gaining  the  acquired  perceptions.  It  is  by  the 
adaptation  of  this  discipline  to  high  moral  uses,  that  is  explained 
the  law  of  nature  by  which  man  is  born  the  most  ignorant  and  help- 
less of  all  animals,  and  forced,  as  it  were,  to  make  his  acquisitions 
by  his  own  sagacity,  as  fast  as  he  is  impelled  by  the  appetites, 
desires,  and  affections  which  are  eyoked  from  his  at  first  undeveloped 
soul."'  While  instinct  enables  the  animal  to  do  a  few  acts  well,  it 
binds  him  fast  in  the  small  civck  of  these  acts.  Intelligence,  which 
at  first  reaches  its  ends  with  feebleness  and  uncertainty,  broadens 
man's  field  of  activity,  adapts  him  to  every  environment,  and  fits 
him  for  the  attainment  of  all  his  ends,  making  him  at  last  inter- 
preter and  master  of  a^l  the  conditions  of  life.  Instinct  marks  the 
power  of  the  body  ever  t^e  soul ;  intelligence  marks  the  soul's  power 
over  the  body. 

4,  The  Instincts  in  Man. 

In  man  instinct,  which  is  the  predominant  directing 
principle  in  animals,  gives  place  to  intelligence.  Still, 
there  are  in  man,  who  also  possesses  an  animal  nature, 
certain  tendencies  to  act,  sufficiently  universal  and  uni- 
form to  deserve  the  name  of  instincts.     They  afford  the 


322  PSYCHOLOGY. 

original  nuclei  about  which  the  apj^etites  and  desires  form 
themselves.     They  may  be  divided  as  follows  : 

(1)  Instincts  preservative  cf  Self. — These  are  {(()  Nutri- 
tive, impelling  us  to  seek  food  for  the  maintenance  of  life, 
although  this  pursuit  soon  falls  under  the  dominion  of 
intelligence  ;  and  [l)  Protective,  impelling  us  to  seek  our 
safety  either  by  flight  from  danger  or  by  resisting  and 
destroying  our  foes. 

(2)  Instincts  preservative  of  the  Species. — These  are  [a] 
Sexual,  impelling  those  of  opposite  sexes  to  seek  each 
other's  companionship,  sometimes  without  a  consciousness 
of  the  end  of  nature  in  implanting  this  tendency ;  {h) 
Maternal,  impelling  the  mother  to  care  for  her  child,  even 
at  the  cost  of  her  OAvn  life,  if  necessary,  and  irrespective 
of  the  child's  beauty  or  jiromise  ;  and  (c)  Social,  impelling 
men  generally  to  unite  in  communities  for  intercourse  and 
mutual  defense.  The  tendency  to  employ  signs  as  the 
medium  of  emotional  and  rational  communication,  or 
language,  is  a  form  of  the  social  instinct.  Emotional 
language — facial  exj^ressions,  gestures,  and  vocal  tones 
and  inflections — shared  also  by  many  animals,  is  almost 
entirely  instinctive.  Imitation  is  based  on  organic  con- 
ditions (page  287)  and  aifords  the  impulse  that  leads  to 
the  acquisition  of  a  particular  language  by  children. 
Curiosity  also  seems  to  have  its  roots  in  an  instinct  for 
knowledge. 

Contrast  the  maternal  provision  of  the  sexton-bee  for  its  offspring 
with  that  of  a  human  mother,  and  one  sees  at  once  the  contrast  be- 
tween instinct  and  intelligence.  The  insect  knows  nothing  of  its 
progeny,  but  is  directed  precisely  what  to  do  for  it,  in  order  to  pro- 
vide for  its  well-being.  The  human  mother  knows  that  her  child  is 
sick,  but  must  use  her  intelligence  in  caring  for  it.     Her  instinct 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  323 

prompts  her  intelligence  to  act  for  the  interest  of  her  child,  but  does 
not  prescribe  how  she  should  act.  The  human  instincts  merely 
prompt  to  action;  the  mode  of  action  is  left  to  intelligence.  For 
the  animal,  guided  by  instinct,  there  is  but  one  way  to  act,  and  his 
organization  contains  provision  to  make  him  act  in  that  way.  For 
man,  guided  by  intelligence,  there  are  many  ways  of  acting,  and 
through  his  intelligence  he  makes  a  choice  of  the  one  he  will  adopt. 
Through  experiment  he  learns  new  and  better  ways,  and  this  is 
progress,  of  which  the  animal  is,  by  himself,  incapable.  The  human 
instincts  furnish  only  hints,  leaving  the  problems  of  life  to  be  worked 
out  by  the  aid  of  reason  and  experience. 

5.  Relation  of  Instinct  to  Education. 

Instinct  has  imj)ortant  relations  to  education.  It  re- 
veals a  plan  in  nature  which  personal  intelligence  of  every 
grade  ouglit  to  respect.  It  is  the  climax  of  teleology  as  ex- 
hibited in  the  physical  and  organic  world.  Not  only  has 
the  organizing  power  constituted  organisms,  but  provision 
has  been  made  in  their  constitution  for  their  preservation 
and  perpetuation.  In  the  presence  of  this  truth,  we  have 
to  observe  (1)  that  instinct  is  capable  of  being  overruled 
by  intelligence,  and  (2)  that  no  natural  instinct  requires 
to  be  destroyed. 

(1)  Instinct  may  be  overruled  by  Intelligence. — This  is 
evident  both  from  the  virtues  and  the  vices  of  men.  In 
the  moral  order  of  human  society,  we  see  the  animal 
instincts  regidated  by  principles  that  limit  the  perform- 
ance of  instinctive  actions.  While  virtue  shows  the 
animal  instincts  restrained  by  moral  law,  vice  shows  them 
destroyed  by  sophistry.  Thus,  the  maternal  instinct, 
which  prompts  a  mother  to  care  for  her  child,  may  be 
overcome  by  false  principles,  which  induce  her  to  destroy 
it.  Thus  instinct  is  modified  by  intelligence  for  both 
good  and  evil. 


324  PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2)    No  natural  instinct  requires  to  be  destroyed. — As 

related  to  natural  euds^  instincts  have  their  reason  for  ex- 
istence. As  man  possesses  both  a  rational  and  an  animal 
nature,  instinct  in  man  must  be  harmonized  with  reason. 
Instinct,  which  furnishes  a  comj^lete  law  for  the  purely 
animal  nature,  does  not  furnish  a  j^erfect  law  for  a  rational 
nature.  The  instincts  need  not  be  destroyed,  for  they 
furnish  a  law  for  the  lower  nature.  They  should  be 
regulated,  however,  because  in  man  this  lower  nature  is 
united  with  a  higher.  The  moral  law  requires  us  to  love 
our  neighbor  as  ourselves,  but  does  not  require  us  to 
destroy  the  instinct  of  self -protection.  A  false  sj^stem  of 
education  may  crush  out  every  manly  instinct,  but  in 
doing  so  it  has  done  what  reason  itself  cannot  justify. 
The  first  duty  of  the  educator  is  to  know  what  the  natural 
instincts  in  man  are,  the  second  to  respect  them  as  laws  of 
human  nature,  the  third  to  limit  instinct  to  its  proper 
sphere  by  subjecting  it  to  moral  law,  which  is  the  law  of 
the  higher  nature. 

There  are,  indeed,  "tendencies,"  "habits,"  and  "inherited  dis- 
positions "  which  require  to  be  repressed  and  extinguished,  but  these 
are  not  natural  instincts.  They  are  the  abnormal  excrescences  of 
individual  life,  not  instincts  universally  inherent  in  the  human 
species.  Cruelty,  destructiveness,  etc.,  for  example,  are  tendencies 
of  this  kind  very  common  in  man,  but  they  are  not  universal,  they 
have  no  natural  purpose,  they  are  not,  properly  speaking,  human 
instincts.  This  is  shown  very  well  by  the  common  judgment  which 
pronounces  them  "inhuman."  They  are  individual  tendencies, 
sometimes  inherited,  it  may  be,  sometimes  individually  acquired, 
but  not  instincts  in  the  sense  here  intended.  And  yet,  as  Darwin 
has  said,  "the  resemblance  between  what  was  originally  a  habit 
and  an  instinct  becomes  so  close  as  not  to  be  distinguished." 
This,  however,  simply  indicates  the  limitation  of  our  discerning 
power. 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  325 

In  tills  section,  on  "Instinctive  Action,"  we  have 
considered  :— 

1,  Definition  of  Instinctive  Action, 

2,  Chai^acteristics  of  Instinct. 

3,  Instinct  and  Intelligence. 

4,  The  Instincts  in  Man. 

5,  Relation  of  Instinct  to  Education. 

References:  (1)  Speneer's  Principles  of  PsijcJiology,  I., Part  lY., 
Chapter  V.  (3)  Romanes'  Mental  FvoluHon  in  Animals,  p.  257. 
(3)  Darwin's  Origin  of  Species,  pp.  205,  206.  (4)  Id.  (5)  Id.  (6) 
Romanes'  Mental  Evolution  in  Animals,  p.  159.  (7)  Porter's 
Human  Intellect,  p.  177. 


SECTIOIT   in. 

ACQUIRED   ACTION. 
1.  Definition  of  Acquired  Action. 

We  inherit  a  nature,  but  we  acquire  a  character. 
Human  nature  is  essentially  the  same  in  all  human 
beings.  Character  is  variable  and  assumes  new  forms  in 
different  persons.  An  acquired  action  is  called  a  Habit. 
It  consists  in  a  disposition  to  repeat  itself  whenever  favor- 
able circumstances  are  afforded.  Thus,  any  particular- 
movement  of  any  bodily  organ  repeated  many  times 
becomes  a  habit,  or  acquired  action.  A  particular  activ- 
ity of  any  psychical  faculty  also  tends  to  become  a  habit. 
Man  is  sometimes  described  as  ^'^a  bundle  of  habits.'' 
He  is  this,  but  he  is  more  ;  for  underneath  these  habits, 
which  are  characteristic  of  the  individual,  is  the  nature 
that  is  common  to  all  men, — the  plastic  humanity  that 
may  be  conformed  to  many  moulds  of  manhood. 


326  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Habit  is  sometimes  called  "a  second  nature."  This  expression 
very  well  marks  the  distinction  between  purely  natural  and  acquired 
activity.  Habit  is  activity  in  the  process  of  becoming  nature. 
Owing  to  the  law  of  heredity,  it  is  difficult  to  draw  the  line  between 
instinct  and  habit;  for  the  habits  of  one  generation  seem  to  merge 
into  the  instincts  of  the  next.  We  are  here  confronted  with  the 
problem  that  meets  us  everywhere,  the  discrimination  of  the  pri- 
mordial from  the  secondary.  We  must,  however,  have  words  to  indi- 
cate a  distinction  so  clear  as  that  between  inherited  and  acquired 
activities.  The  ordinary  usage  of  language  has  restricted  the  word 
"  habit "  to  the  activities  acquired  by  the  individual. 

2.   The  Origin  of  Habits. 

Habits  originate  either  from  external  circnmstances  or 
from  an  act  of  Will.  Many  habits  are  induced  by  condi- 
tions in  onr  surroundings  to  which  we  give  little  atten- 
tion. We  adajit  ourselves  to  our  environment,  and  habits 
are  spontaneously  formed.  Other  habits  originate  from  a 
specific  act,  or  series  of  acts,  of  Will.  This  is  the  origiri 
of  most  of  our  complex  habits ;  such  as  reading,  writing, 
playing  on  musical  instruments,  etc.,  which  require 
repeated  and  attentive  mental  direction  in  order  to  estab- 
lish them.  In  general,  habit  is  organized  by  repeating 
an  action.  It  is  disorganized  by  discontinuing  the  action. 
A  habit  which  is  common  to  many  persons,  or  widely 
prevalent  among  them,  is  called  a  custom.  Customs  are 
the  habits  of  communities. 

The  origin  of  habits  shows  how  far  one  is  responsible  for  their 
formation  and  continuance.  Although  a  habit  may  be  formed  with- 
out any  act  of  Will,  that  is,  without  an  intention  that  it  shall  be 
formed,  the  agent  is  responsible  for  its  existence,  because  it  might 
have  been  prevented.  No  habit  can  be  formed,  if  we  refuse  in  the 
beginning  to  perform  the  act  which,  by  repetition,  results  in  the 
habit.    Again,  there  is  provision  in  our  nature  for  the  disorganiza- 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  32t 

tion  of  habits,  even  after  they  have  been  formed.  No  act  can  take 
place  except  under  certain  conditions.  We  can  remove,  or  refuse  to 
fulfill,  the  conditions  which  an  activity  requires;,  and,  deprived  of 
its  opportunities,  the  habit  is  destroyed. 

3.  The  Laws  of  Habit. 

There  are  two  laws  of  habit  which  are  of  great  signifi- 
cance : 

(1)  The  Law  of  increasing  Automatism. — This  may  he 
stated  as  follows  :   Habit  diminishes  feeling  and  increases 

activity.  The  tendency  of  feeling  to  disappear  from 
habitnal  action  is  well  known.  The  chemist  becomes 
insensible  to  the  bad  odors  in  the  laboratory,  the  hnnter 
to  the  sensations  incident  to  exposnre,  the  surgeon  to 
emotional  sympathy  with  pain.  In  order  to  produce  from 
day  to  day  the  same  exhilarating  effects  of  alcoholic  drink, 
the  dose  must  be  progressively  increased.  Hence,  the 
tendency  of  the  drinker  to  increase  the  quantity  or  the 
quality  of  his  potations.  At  the  same  time  that  feeling 
is  diminished,  activity  of  a  specific  kind  is  increased. 
The  chemist  performs  his  experiments  with  greater  ease, 
the  hunter  more  readily  discovers  and  secures  his  game, 
the  surgeon  cuts  more  skillfully.  Although  an  intoxicant 
produces  less  feeling,  it  comes  to  be  imperatively  de- 
manded. Habitual  action  becomes  automatic,  liberating 
consciousness  and  attention  for  new  uses.  The  expert 
writer,  whose  whole  mind  was  at  first  given  to  the 
motions  of  his  hand,  finds  the  operation  of  writing  almost 
mechanical,  and  his  higher  faculties  are  free  to  occupy 
themselves  with  the  current  of  thought. 

There  is  an  apparent  exception  to  this  law.  Habitual  feelings 
seem  to  be  increased  in  amount.     This  increase  is  only  relative,  not 


328  PSYCHOLOGY. 

absolute.  If  the  feeling  does  actually  increase  in  amount,  it  is 
because  the  activity  increases  in  still  greater  proportion.  The  miser, 
as  we  have  seen  (page  285),  experiences  a  growing  desire  for  money, 
but  his  enjoyment  rather  diminishes,  while  his  efforts  to  procure  it 
increase.  The  habitual  scold  loses  sensibility  to  her  own  detrac- 
tions, while  her  fault-finding  activity  becomes  incessant.  At  last, 
the  pain  of  her  censures  falls  upon  other  people  more  than  upon  her- 
self and  she  degenerates  into  a  fault-finding  machine  !  Happily, 
the  pain  of  being  scolded  also  diminishes  as  much  scolding  is  experi- 
enced, until,  finally,  we  regard  the  most  violent  explosions  of  wrath 
as  we  do  other  inevitable  natural  phenomena,  as,  for  example,  a 
thunder-storm  or  a  tempest ! 

(2)  The  Law  of  destination  of  Charactep. — This  law  may 
be  stated  thus :  Habit  tends  to  become  permanent  and  to 
exclude  the  formation  of  other  habits.  An  acquired  action 
not  only  tends  to  be  easily  repeated,  but  to  render  impos- 
sible the  acquisition  of  new  modes  of  activity  of  a  different 
kind.  The  greatest  obstacle  to  the  formation  of  a  habit 
is  the  existence  of  its  opposite.  Thus  habit  forms  charac- 
ter, and  character  determines  destiny. 

4.  Cerebration. 

The  laws  of  habit  are,  doubtless,  universal.  If  so,  they 
govern  to  some  extent  the  activities  of  the  brain  as  well 
as  those  of  other  organs.  The  action  of  the  brain  is  called 
"cerebration"  (from  the  Latin  cerebrum,  brain).  How 
far  can  the  habitual  activities  of  the  brain  affect  our 
mental  processes  ?  The  sight  of  a  sharp  stick  thrust 
toward  one's  face,  causes  him  to  dodge  the  exj^ected  blow 
involuntarily.  If  so  complicated  an  action  as  this  can 
occur  automatically,  what  limit  is  there  to  the  actions 
which  may  be  thus  explained  as  2:>urely  involuntary  ?  It 
cannot  be  shown  that  we  should  dodge,  or  perform  any 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION  339 

similar  complex  action,  if  we  were  not  conscious.  The 
cause  of  our  dodging  is  the  involuntary  reaction  of  the 
idea  upon  the  motor  mechanism,  which  has  acquired  cer- 
tain particular  movements.  An  infant  that  has  never 
been  hurt,  does  not  dodge  when  a  blow  is  aimed  at  it. 
An  adult,  who  has  been  hurt,  can  hardly  prevent  the 
involuntary  motion.  The  action,  then,  is  ideo-motor 
(page  314).  Carpenter  and  some  other  physiologists  con- 
sider that  "unconscious  cerebration"  also  may  cause 
such  complex  actions,  and  employ  this  assumption  in 
explaining  many  singular  phenomena. 

Carpenter  thus  explains  the  solution  of  problems  and  other 
intricate  processes  in  sleep.  He  gives  many  examples  of  such 
alleged  performances.^  A  prominent  s})ecianst  in  abnormal  psy- 
chology comments  upon  these  explanations  as  follows:  "It  is  quite 
true  that,  after  long  puzzling  ourselves  to  see  the  true  relations  of 
things,  it  now  and  then  happens  that  they  suddenly,  as  it  were,  pre- 
sent themselves  to  our  mind,  and  the  difficulty  is  at  once  solved,  like 
a  whole  landscape  seen  by  a  flash  of  lightning;  but  this  affords  no 
proof  that  we  have  been  working  at  it  unconsciously,  it  merely 
shows  that  the  mind  is  sometimes  more  rapid  and  powerful  in  its 
operations  than  at  others.  Occasionally,  as  in  recollecting  where  we 
put  lost  objects,  it  is  owing  to  an  idea  crossing  our  mind  which 
lights  up  a  lost  train  of  associations.  As  well  might  the  wearied 
marksman  whose  shoulder  is  sore,  and  whose  gun  trembles  in  his 
hand  so  that  he  shoots  wide  of  the  mark,  but  who  finds  next  morn- 
ing that  he  can  hit  the  centre — as  well  might  he  conclude  that  he 
had  been  unconsciously  practicing  in  his  sleep."  ^  The  exaggerated 
extent  to  which  Carpenter  would  carry  his  theory  is  illustrated  by 
this  passage.  "An  expert  calculator,  who  may  have  originally  had 
no  more  than  an  ordinary  facility  in  apprehending  the  relations  of 
numbers,  casting  his  eye  rapidly  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  a 
column  of  figures,  will  name  the  total  without  any  conscious  ap- 
preciation of  the  value  of  each  individual  figure;  having  acquired  by 
practice  somewhat  of  that  immediate  insight,  which  is  so  remarkable 
a  form  of  intuition  in  certain  rare  cases.     It  is  certain  that  a  dis- 


330  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tinct  ideational  state  must  have  been  originally  called  up  by  the 
sight  of  each  individual  figure;  and  yet  an  impression  made  by  it 
upon  the  cerebrum,  which  does  not  produce  any  conscious  recogni- 
tion of  its  numerical  value,  comes  to  be  adequate  for  the  evolution 
of  the  result."^  Such  cases  must  be  ''rare,"  indeed,  and  it  would 
be  interesting  to  find  an  accountant  who  could  add  up  a  column  of 
figures  correctly  without  being  conscious  of  each  figure  as  he  passed 
it !  "  Immediate  insight "  which  is  ' '  unconscious  "  is  certainly  not 
far  from  a  plain  contradiction  in  terms.  The  evidence  that  any  man 
can  do  what  Carpenter  here  describes  is  not  only  wanting  but  im- 
possible. As  Ireland  adds,  "It  is  certainly  a  bold  statement  to  say 
that  a  man  can  add  up  a  column  of  figures  without  the  mind  being 
conscious  of  any  of  them.  Common-sense  would  surely  reply,  that 
if  the  accountant  were  unconscious  of  even  one  of  the  figures,  he 
would  not  add  it  up  alor>g  with  the  rest,  and  his  addition  would  thus 
be  incorrect."  ^ 


5.  Hypnotization. 

The  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration  is  employed  to 
explain  the  phenomena  of  Hypnotization  (from  the  Greek 
vTTvog,  liyp7ios,  sleep)  or  artificial  sleep.  The  interest 
attaching  to  these  phenomena  requires  that  we  should 
consider  (1)  the  hypnotic  state,  (2)  the  hypnotic  actions, 
and  (3)  the  explanations  offered. 

(1)  The  Hypnotic  State. — The  hypnotic  state  consists 
in  the  fixing  of  the  attention  of  the  person  about  to  be 
hypnotized  upon  some  particular  object ;  as,  for  example, 
the  finger  of  the  operator  held  before  the  eyes,  or  the  sub* 
ject's  own  finger.  A  condition  in  outward  appearance  not 
unlike  natural  sleep  is  realized,  although  the  mind  is  still 
open  to  suggestions.  The  subject  remains  conscious,  but 
there  is  absence  of  self-suggested  ideas  and  suspension  of 
all  voluntary  action.  The  state  may  be  produced  without 
an  operator  by  the  subject  himself.     When  in  the  hyp- 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  33I 

notic  state,   the  subject's  consciousness   is  accessible  to 
ideas  suggested  by  another  person. 

(2)  The  Hypnotic  Actions. — In  this  state,  the  subject  is 
open  to  any  suggestion  made  by  the  person  with  whom  he 
is  in  relation,  but  usually  he  is  conscious  of  notliing  else. 
When  his  arm  is  raised  and  he  is  told  that  he  cannot  lower 
it,  he  is  powerless  to  do  so.  When  he  is  told  that  he  has 
a  pain  in  a  particular  place,  he  acts  as  if  he  had.  When 
directed  to  rise  and  walk  and  to  j)erform  other  similar 
actions,  he  instantly  obeys,  usually  with  the  eyes  closed. 
There  are  degrees  of  hypnotization,  and  some  persons  seem 
incapable  of  assuming  this  state.  In  cases  of  complete 
hypnotization,  the  subject  is  powerless  and  his  organism 
responds  only  to  ideas  suggested  by  the  operator. 

(3)  The  Explanations  offered. — Some  attempt  to  explain 
these  phenomena,  which  are  now  too  well  known  to  be 
disputed,  by  unconscious  cerebration.  This  explanation 
is  inadequate  for  the  following  reasons  :  («)  the  subject  is 
conscious  in  the  hypnotic  state  ;  ^  (/;)  the  actions  per- 
formed are  suggested  by  ideas  alone,  and  it  is  absurd  to 
speak  of  unconscious  ideas  ;  (c)  the  subject,  although  he 
does  not  ordinarily  remember  the  events  of  hypnotic 
action,  is  able  to  recall  them  after  waking,  upon  sug- 
gestion. The  true  explanation  appears  to  be  as  follows  : 
{ci)  the  fixing  of   attention   produces  an  arrest   of   the 

^  ordinary  activities  of  the  brain  ;  {Ij)  the  ordinary  activities 
of  the  brain  being  arrested,  a  condition  of  unstable  equi- 
librmm  is  produced ;  (c)  this  unstable  equilibrium  renders 
easy  an  involuntary  ideo-motor  action  when  any  particular 
idea  is  formed  by  suggestion  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
subject ;  (cZ)  an  idea  is  suggested  to  the  mind  of  the  sub- 
ject by  the  hypnotizer ;  and  (e)  this  idea  reacts  i?ivolun^ 


332  PSYCHOLOGY. 

iarihj  uj^on  the  brain,  producing  a  corresponding  ideo« 
motor  action.  All  is  involuntary,  but  ail  takes  j^lace 
through  consciousness.  In  sound  sleep,  when  conscious- 
ness is  suspended,  if  it  ever  is  wholly  suspended  (page  19), 
suggestions  have  no  effect  unless  they  awaken  the  sleeper, 
who  then  conies  into  voluntary  command  of  his  faculties 
and  is  not  automatically  influenced  by  suggestions.  The 
state  of  hypnotism  seems  to  be  one  in  which  Will  is  sur- 
rendered and  ideo-motor  action  is  left  automatic. 

The  history  and  theories  of  Hypnotism  are  too  full  of  compli- 
cated details  for  satisfactory  treatment  in  an  elementary  work. 
Those  who  are  interested  in  the  subject  may  obtain  information  by 
consulting  articles  in  the  encyclopedias  on  "  Mesmerism,"  "  Odyle," 
"Electro-biology,"  etc.  The  phenomena  now  known  under  the 
name  of  "Hypnotism"  were  taken  out  of  the  almost  exclusive  pos- 
session of  charlatans  and  fanatics  by  James  Braid,  an  English  ex- 
perimenter, who,  in  1841,  laid  the  foundations  of  a  scientific  treat- 
ment of  these  obscure  facts.  They  have  since  been  extensively 
discussed  by  Carpenter,  in  his  "Mental  Physiology,"  and  by  many 
others.  Many  very  remarkable  examples  are  to  be  found  in  "  Phan- 
tasms of  the  Living,"  by  Edmund  Gurney  and  others,  published  for 
the  Society  for  Psychical  Research.  The  discussions  include  hypno- 
tization  at  a  distance.  Shorter  accounts  may  be  found  in  "Mind," 
volumes  VI.,  p.  98,  by  G.  Stanley  Hall;  IX.,  p.  110,  by  E.  Gurney; 
IX.,  p.  477,  by  Gurney;  and  XII.,  p.  213  and  397,  by  the  same.  An 
article  on  "Reaction-time  in  the  Hypnotic  State,"  by  Hall,  may  be 
found  in  VIII.,  p.  170.  Hypnotism  has  been  applied  to  curative 
purposes,  and  a  full  account  of  the  results  and  the  theory  of 
hypnotic  therapeutics  maybe  found  in  "De  1&  Suggestion,"  par  le 
Dr.  H.  Bernheim. 

6.   Somnanibulism. 

Hypnotization  is  closely  allied  to  Somnambulism  (from 
the  Latin  somn^is,  sleep,  and  amhuldre,  to  walk),  or  sleej)- 
walking.     This  phenomenon  assumes  a  great  variety  of 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION  333 

forms.  Persons  talk,  walk,  write,  and  climb  dangerous 
places,  without  being  awake.  Such  experiences  are 
usually  forgotten  by  the  subject  after  Avaking,  but  may 
be  remembered  when  he  is  again  in  a  similar  condition, 
and  sometimes  when  the  link  of  association  is  given  by 
suggestion.  There  is  evidence  that  the  somnambulist  is 
conscious  when  in  the  somnambulistic  state,  but  only  of 
those  ideas  and  actions  which  are  connected  with  his  per- 
formances. Somnambulism  seems  to  be  a  form  of  ideo- 
motor  action,  but  it  is  not  certain  that  Will  is  not  some- 
times present. 

It  would  be  easy  to  cite  a  great  number  of  interesting  and  curi- 
ous cases.  The  following  is  narrated  of  a  distinguished  Scotch 
lawyer:  "  This  eminent  person  had  been  consulted  respecting  a  case 
of  great  importance  and  much  difficulty ;  and  he  had  been  studying 
it  with  intense  anxiety  and  attention.  After  several  days  had  been 
occupied  in  this  manner,  he  was  observed  by  his  wife  to  rise  from  his 
bed  in  the  night,  and  go  to  a  writing-desk  which  stood  in  the  bed- 
room. He  then  sat  down,  and  wrote  a  long  paper,  which  he  carefully 
put  by  in  his  desk,  and  returned  to  bed.  The  following  morning  he 
told  his  wife  that  he  had  had  a  most  interesting  di'cam, — that  he  had 
dreamt  of  delivering  a  clear  and  luminous  opinion  respecting  a  case 
which  had  exceedingly  perplexed  him ;  and  that  he  would  give  any- 
thing to  recover  the  train  of  thought  which  had  passed  before  him  in 
his  dream.  She  then  directed  him  to  the  writing-desk,  where  he 
found  the  opinion  clearly  and  fully  written  out ;  and  this  was  after- 
wards found  to  be  perfectly  correct."  ^  In  this  case,  there  was  evi- 
dently consciousness  of  the  writing  at  the  time  it  was  performed, 
afterwards  remembered  dimly  as  a  dream.  In  the  following  case, 
there  was  no  memory  except  in  the  somnambulistic  state,  "A 
servant-maid,  rather  given  to  sleep-walking,  missed  one  of  her 
combs ;  and  being  unable  to  discover  it,  on  making  a  diligent  search, 
charged  a  fellow-servant  who  slept  in  the  same  room  with  having 
taken  it.  One  morning,  however,  she  awoke  with  the  comb  in  her 
hand ;  so  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  she  had  put  it  away  on  a 
previous  night,  without  preserving  any  waking  remembrance  of  the 


334  PSYCHOLOGY. 

occurrence ;  and  that  she  had  recovered  it  when  the  remembrance  of 
its  hiding-place  was  brought  to  her  by  the  recurrence  of  the  state  in 
which  it  had  been  secreted."' 


7.  Language. 

The  involuntary  nse  of  language  illustrates  the  extent 
to  which  a  purely  automatic  activity  may  reach.  Who 
has  not  cheerfully  said,  ^'  Good  morning,"  to  a  friend 
casually  met  upon  the  street,  and  suffered  from  confusion 
by  the  immediate  recollection  that  it  was  evening  ?  Here 
the  impulse  has  been  given  to  the  vocal  organs  to  say  some- 
thing, and  they  have  automatically  uttered  something 
absurd.  The  linguistic  mechanism  includes  auditory  or- 
gans, through  which  we  receive  sounds,  and  the  phonetic 
organs,  such  as  the  tongue,  lips,  and  teeth,  with  which  we 
produce  sounds.  Between  these  there  are  lines  of  com- 
munication in  the  nervous  system.  Certain  sounds,  as 
exclamations  of  pain,  are  purely  reflex.  Habituated  b}' 
frequent  use  to  the  formation  of  definite  sounds,  the 
phonetic  machinery  sometimes  acts  involuntarily.  As 
language  is  the  instrument  of  thinking,  we  sometimes 
think  in  audible  sounds.  Many  persons  never  read  tc? 
themselves  without  moving  the  lips.  Even  when  no  out- 
ward signs  are  given,  it  is  probable  that  the  internal  parts 
of  the  linguistic  machinery  are  at  work,  and  this  silent 
thinking  in  words  has  been  called  "  intra-cranial  speech." 

The  mechanism  of  language  associations  may  be  better  under- 
stood by  reference  to  Figure  23.  Let  /be  a  sensor  impression.  By 
hearing  it  may  pass  to  the  auditory  centre  in  the  brain,  A.  By  sight 
it  may  pass  to  the  visual  centre,  V.  By  touch  it  may  pass  to  the 
tactile  centre,  T.  Thus,  a  word  may  be  known  as  a  sound,  as  a  col- 
location of  letters,  or  as  a  group  of  sensations  of  touch,  as  in  the 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION.  335 

raised  letters  of  the  blind.  Now  when  associations  are  formed  be- 
tween these,  sounds  may  be  translated  into  sights,  as  when  one 
writes  notes  of  a  lecture  to  which  he  listens.  In  the  reverse  case, 
sights  may  be  translated  into  sounds,  as  when  one  reads  aloud.  The 
circuit,  then,  would  be  as  follows:  In  writing  from  dictati(5n,  the 
impression,  /,  goes  to  the  auditory  centre,  A,  then  to  the  speaking 
centre,  S,  for  translation  into  words,  then  to  the  writing  centre,  W, 
and  finally  issues  as  written  expression,  E.  This  result,  written 
words,  may  then  be  received  as  a  new  impression,  /,  passing  to  the 
visual  centre,  V,  thence  to  the  writing  centre,  W,  being  translated 
into  speech  at  S,  and  issuing  through  that  centre  as  a  new  expres- 
sion, E,  this  time  spoken.  If  anything  like  this  takes  place  in  the 
brain,  it  is  evident  that  disease  at  A  would  be  deafness,  disease  at  V 
would  be  blindness,  disease  at  S  would  be  aphasia,  disease  at  W 
would  be  agraphia.  Ferrier  and  others  hold  that  something  of  this 
kind  is  true.  He  localizes  the  organ  of  speech  in  the  region  of  the 
posterior  extremity  of  the  third  left  frontal  convolution  of  the 
cerebrum  (Figure  4).  The  paralysis  of  this  centre  is  said  to  result  in 
the  loss  of  speech,  or  aphasia.^ 

The  French  philosopher,  J.  G.  Cabam's  (1757-1808),  seriously 
maintained  that  thought  is  identical  with  language,  and  language  is 
simply  the  automatic  movement  of  the  organs  of  speech.  Max 
Miiller  borders  upon  the  same  doctrine,  though  he  does  not  explic- 
itly state  it,  in  his  motto,  "No  reason  without  language,  no  lan- 
guage without  reason."  While,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  no  rational 
speech  without  reason  (page  137),  it  is  by  no  means  clear  that  there 
is  no  reason  without  language.  Laura  Bridgman  had  reason  before 
she  had  language.  Every  child  has  reason  without  language.  Rea- 
son is  the  pre-condition  of  rational  speech,  not  identical  with  it. 
In  the  process  of  naming,  the  mind  first  abstracts  and  selects  a 
quality  to  be  named  (page  137).  If  we  are  sometimes  betrayed  by 
the  automatic  action  of  our  vocal  mechanism  into  blunders  which 
seem  ridiculous,  we  also  know  that  in  all  constructive  thought  the 
ideas  outstrip  the  words  and  we  frequently  have  ideas  for  which  we 
can  find  no  words.  Language  is  so  far  from  being  automatic  that 
every  dialect  furnishes  evidence  of  an  organizing  power  conscious  of 
its  own  formative  influence  and  expressing  its  freedom  of  choice  in 
terms  and  propositions  that  distinguish  sharply  between  the  involun- 
Wy  and  the  voluntary. 


336  PSYCHOLOGY, 

8.  The  Acquisition  of  Language. 

Language  has  to  be  consciously  acquired  by  every  indi- 
vidual for  himself.  Parentage  is  not  known  to  give  any 
advantage  in  acquiring  a  particular  language,  for  the 
child  learns  only  what  he  is  taught.  The  steps  are  {a) 
attention  to  particular  sounds,  those  who  are  deaf  being 
usually  also  mute ;  {h)  association  of  meaning  with  sounds, 
which  reveals  the  intervention  of  mind  and  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  automatism  to  ex23lain  language ;  (c)  imitation  of 
sounds,  which  can  result  at  first  only  from  tlie  tendency 
to  find  a  means  of  rational  communication ;  and  {d)  co- 
ordination of  sensor  and  motor  processes  until  they  become 
almost  automatic.  It  is  evident  that  the  acquisition  of 
language  requires  a  rational  intelligence  and  a  certain 
amount  of  conscious  self-direction. 

If  language  and  reason  were  identical,  it  is  evident  that  reason 
could  be  imparted  to  any  being  capable  of  language.  The  parrot 
utters  articulate  sounds  with  a  startling  accuracy,  and  when  we  hear 
this  bird  pronouncing  whole  sentences,  as  it  may  be  taught  to  do,  it 
seems  as  if  it  possessed  a  corresponding  intelligence.  But  it  requires 
very  little  investigation  to  convince  us  that  this  is  a  mistake,  that 
the  parrot  does  not  understand  its  utterances,  and  produces 
them  in  a  purely  automatic  fashion.  The  most  sagacious  of  the 
domestic  animals  do,  indeed,  sometimes  seem  to  understand  simple 
words  or  short  sentences,  but  there  is  room  for  gross  self-deception 
here  also.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  we  cannot  arrange  any 
conventional  system  of  signs  of  such  a  nature  as  to  establish  rational 
communication  with  dogs  and  horses  ;  much  less  can  they  produce 
such  a  system  themselves.  It  is  possible  that  the  admirers  of  animal 
intelligence,  who  resent  every  depreciation  of  it  as  if  this  deprecia- 
tion were  an  insult  to  their  dumb  friends,  may  have  the  patience  to 
attempt  to  evoke  by  a  system  of  signs  some  of  the  peculiarities  of 
the  canine  and  equine  consciousness!  Science,  in  the  meantime, 
respectfully  awaits  these  desirable  results,  which  would  throw  so 


INVOLUNTARY  ACTION-.  337 

much  light  on  comparative  psychology;  but,  until  they  have  been 
produced,  must  be  content  to  draw  a  broad  line  between  man  and 
all  these  animals  and  attribute  to  him  a  rational  power,  and  a  power 
of  self-direction  as  a  consequence  of  it,  which  it  does  not  find  in  them. 

9.  Habit  and  Education. 

There  are  two  extremes  of  doctrine  lield  by  educational 
theorists  :  the  first  regards  all  human  actions  as  acquired  ; 
the  second  regards  them  all  as  native.  The  truth  prob- 
ably lies  between  these  extremes.  No  action  can  be 
acquired  unless  a  faculty  for  it  belongs  to  the  constitution 
of  the  being  who  attempts  to  perform  the  action  ;  every 
action  can  be  rendered  more  joerfect  by  habituation.  The 
laws  of  habit  are  of  prime  importance  in  education,  for  its 
principal  aim  is  to  induce  certain  habits  of  mind  and  body 
in  the  pupil.  And  yet  its  aim  is  not  to  produce  mere 
automata.  Pursuit  of  truth,  submission  to  rightful  au- 
thority, and  industry  are  general  habits  absolutely  nec- 
essary to  a  well-educated  mind.  The  first  condition  of 
progress  in  knowledge  is  the  formation  of  proper  habits 
of  study.  The  school  cannot  impart  great  learning,  but 
it  may  form  in  the  learner  habits  that  will,  in  the  course 
of  a  life-time,  lead  to  great  accomplishments.  Attention, 
patience,  and  activity  are  the  cardinal  virtues  of  scholar- 
ship,  and  these  are  the  most  precious  fruitage  of  the 
school.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  education,  the  first  duty 
of  a  teacher  is  that  of  a  drill -master.  His  efficiency  does 
not  depend  so  much  upon  the  knowledge  he  imparts  as 
upon  the  habits  he  induces.  But  there  is  danger  of 
extreme  habituation.  No  mere  macliine,  however  perfect, 
can  perform  the  functions  of  a  man.  As  tlie  mechanical 
theory  of  mental  action  fails  to  account  for  the  whole  of 


338  PSTCHOLOOY. 

the  psychical  life,  so  the  mechanical  theory  of  training 
fails  to  produce  an  educated  mind.  Therefore,  while  the 
teacher  should  endeavor  to  aid  the  learner  in  forming 
proper  habits,  and  thus  render  certain  actions  as  nearly 
as  possible  automatic,  he  should  not  forget  that  by  this 
very  j^rocess  the  power  of  seSf-direction  is  liberated  for  new 
adaptations,  and  this  power  should  be  guided  along  the 
path  of  progress. 

In  this  section,   on    "Acquired   Action,"   we  have 
considered : — 

1,  Definition  of  Acquired  Action, 

2,  The  Oriffin  of  Habits, 

3,  The  Laws  of  Habit, 

4,  Cerebration, 

5,  Hypnotization, 

6,  Soninambulisin, 

7,  Language, 

8,  The  Acquisition  of  Language, 

9,  Habit  and  Education, 

References  :  (1)  Carpenter's  Mental  Physiology,  pp.  532,  537. 
(2)  W.  W.  Ireland's  The  Blot  upon  the  Brain,  pp.  226,  227.  (3) 
Carpenter's  Mental  Physiology,  pp.  529,  530.  (4)  Ireland's  The  Blot 
upon  the  Brain,  p.  229.  (5)  Mind,  for  October,  1884,  p.  481.  (6) 
Abercrombie's  Intellectual  Powers,  p.  306.  (7)  Carpenter's  Mental 
Physiology,  p.  596.  (8)  Ferrier's  Functions  of  the  Brain,  pp.  444, 
445. 


CHAPTHH    H. 

VOLUNTARY    ACTION. 

DIVISION   OF  THE   SUBJECT. 

Having  examined  in  detail  the  different  forms  of  in- 
voluntary action,  we  now  proceed  to  consider  voluntary 
action.  That  there  is  such  action,  we  cannot  doubt ;  for, 
if  we  did  not  know  it  in  our  experience,  we  should  con- 
sider all  action  involuntary,  and  the  distinction  would  not 
be  made.  We  are  conscious  of  both  voluntary  and  invol- 
untary actions,  as  taking  place  in  us,  but  in  the  case  of 
voluntary  actions  we  are  conscious  of  being  causes,  not 
simply  instruments.  We  have  to  consider  :  (1)  how  we 
are  influenced  to  action  through  our  Sensibility — or 
Solicitation ;  (2)  how  we  rejoresent  to  ourselves  an  action, 
before  it  is  performed,  through  our  Intellect — or  Delibera- 
tion ;  and  (3)  how  we  finally  execute  an  action  by  Will — 
or  Volition.  We  shall  then  conclude  with  some  account 
of  the  Development  of  Will. 


SBOTIOIT    L 

SOLICITATION. 
1.  Definition  of  Solicitation. 

Solicitation  is  a  process  of  invitatioyi  to  action  as  dis= 
tinguished  from  comj)ulsion.     When  we  are  moved  by  a 


340  PSYCHOLOGY. 

physical  force  acting  upon  us  bodily,  as  when  we  are  swept 
before  a  tempest,  we  are  compelled  to  move  in  the  manner 
determined  by  this  force.  But  we  are  capable  of  a  differ- 
ent kind  of  action.  Having  tasted  of  a  certain  food  and 
having  found  it  pleasant,  we  are  influenced  to  jierform 
certain  actions,  in  order  to  procure  more  of  that  food. 
In  this  case,  we  are  solicited,  but  not  compelled,  to  act. 
We  direct  ourselves  in  the  performance  of  thij  action 
for  a  specific  end. 

3.   Motors  and  Motives  Distinguished, 

A  physical  force,  whether  outside  of  us  or  within  us, 
produces  certain  movements  which  are  capable  of  meas- 
urement and  calculation.  Such  forces  are  called  motors. 
The  human  body,  as  a  complex  mechanism,  is  moved  by 
such  motors.  All  action  resulting  from  the  play  of  these 
motors  is  involuntary.  Solicitation,  however,  influences 
us  through  motives.  A  motive  is  not  a  physical  force  and 
has  no  physical  properties.  A  motive  is  a  reason,  a  pur- 
pose, or  end  of  acting,  addressed  to  a  conscious  intel- 
ligence and  deriving  its  value  from  the  prospect  of  some 
pleasure  to  be  aiforded  or  some  pain  to  be  avoided. 

The  modern  doctrine  of  the  correlation  and  conservation  of 

forces  may  be  stated  as  fohows:  There  exists  a  definite  quantity  of 
energy  whose  different  modes  are  correlated  and  convertible  and 
which  is  absolutely  persistent,  being  subject  neither  to  increase  nor 
diminution.  Whatever  happens  is  caused  by  some  transformation 
of  this  definite  quantity  of  force.  Some  would  go  so  far  as  to  apply 
this  theory  to  sensations  and  volitions,  which  are  considered  as 
phenomena  of  the  organism,  and  as  transmutations  of  energy.  It  is 
a  mere  assumption  to  regard  sensations  and  volitions  as  phenomena 
of  the  organism ;  they  are  phenomena  of  consciousness.     It  has  not 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  341 

been  shown  that  consciousness  is  an  effect  of  which  the  organism  is 
the  only  cause.  We  know  that  the  intensity  of  a  sensation  does  not 
increase  in  direct  proportion  to  the  stimuhis  (page  60).  We  cannot 
affirm  that  more  physical  force  is  expended  when  consciousness  is 
produced  than  when  it  is  not  produced.  That  consciousnessF,  with- 
out being  correlated  to  the  physical  forces,  intervenes  to  interrupt,  a 
reflex  act,  we  know  by  experience  in  our  successful  efforts  to  inhibit 
such  reflex  acts  (page  315).  If  consciousness  has  no  powei-  to  inter- 
vene between  a  sensor  impression  and  a  motor  action,  it  loses  its 
entire  significancy  (page  96).  While  sensation  and  volition  cannot 
be  proved  to  abstract  any  force  from  the  circuit  of  physical  forces, 
they  cannot  be  proved  to  add  any.  The  law  of  conservation  of 
energy  may  be  universally  true ;  we  certainly  cannot  contradict  it. 
But  without  the  loss  of  force  the  physical  circuit  may  affect  the  con- 
scious self  by  inducing  it  to  act  upon  the  occasion  of  its  presenta- 
tions, and  the  conscious  self  may  affect  the  physical  circuit  by  a 
reaction  upon  it  that  does  not  increase  the  amount  of  force.  We 
know  too  little  of  the  action  of  any  physical  force  whatever  to  say 
that  one  system  may  not  influence  another  without  a  loss  of  energy. 
The  signalman  uses  no  more  energy  in  showing  a  red  light  than  in 
showing  a  white  light  when  they  stand  side  by  side,  but  it  makes  a 
vast  difference  with  the  fate  of  a  train  which  light  is  shown.  The 
effort  of  the  engineeer  is  the  same  whether  he  sees  a  red  light  or  a 
white  one,  but  the  difference  is  momentous.  To  say  that  the  sight 
of  the  red  light  physically  forces  the  engineer  to  shut  off  steam  and 
throw  on  the  air-brakes,  while  the  sight  of  the  white  light  inhibits 
any  such  action,  is  to  make  him  out  the  helpless  and  irresponsible 
machine  that  all  human  experience  shows  he  is  not.  If  the  law  of 
the  conservation  and  correlation  of  energy  is  universal  in  the  realm 
of  physical  forces,  there  is  certainly  a  superorganic  power  in  the 
constitution  of  man.  If  there  is  not,  all  human  action  falls  fatally 
under  the  category  of  mechanical  action,  personal  responsibility  is 
completely  imaginary,  and  the  well-marked  distinction  between 
voluntary  and  involuntary  action  is  obliterated. 

3.   The  Origin  of  Motives. 

A  motive  can  exist  only  in  a  conscious  intelligence.     It 
is  not  an  efficient  cause,  but  a  final  cause  (page  189).     It 


34^  PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  an  idea,  not  a  thing.  ]\[y  motive  in  procuring  palatable 
food  is  the  enjoyment  of  it.  That  enjoyment  is  not  pres- 
ent, but  future.  It  is  the  idea  of  enjoyment  that  prompts 
me  to  action.  A  motive,  then,  requires  the  formation  of 
an  idea  of  some  expected  good,  which  then  constitutes  a 
reason  for  acting.  The  action  is  not  caused  by  the 
motive,  but  the  motive  is  accepted  by  the  agent  who  is 
himself  the  cause  of  the  action.  This  is  what  conscious- 
ness teaches  us  in  the  analysis  of  any  voluntary  act.  In 
reply  to  the  question  why  have  you  acted  thus  ?  we 
answer.  For  such  or  such  a  purpose. 


Motives  have  been  considered  by  the  American  theologian  and 
philosopher,  Jonathan  Edwards  (1703-1758),  and  many  others  as  ii 
they  were  physical  forces  impelling  the  soul  to  action.  Edwards 
says:  "If  every  act  of  the  Will  is  excited  by  a  motive,  then  that 
motive  is  the  cause  of  the  act  of  the  Will."*  And  again:  "It  is 
that  motive  which  is  the  strongest  that  determines  the  Will."  ^ 
This  is  to  reason  as  if  motives  were  motors,  and  to  treat  the  subject 
as  if  it  were  a  problem  to  be  worked  out  according  to  the  laws  of 
physical  force.  This  false  analogy  has  resulted  in  a  complete  phys- 
ical fatalism  for  every  mind  that  has  followed  it  to  its  logical  con- 
clusions. But  it  is  evident  that  the  analogy  is  a  false  one.  The 
laws  of  physical  force  cannot  be  applied  to  the  operations  of  an  in- 
telligent agent.  A  motive,  or  expectation  of  satisfaction  through 
the  realization  of  an  end,  does  not  necessitate  a  particular  line  of 
conduct.  There  are,  indeed,  appetites  which  urge  us  to  the  immedi- 
ate gratification  of  a  craving.  Here  is  exhibited  that  "law  of  the 
members"  which  wars  against  the  "law  of  the  mind,"  and  which 
cannot  always  be  resisted.  Bat  these  are  forces  that  necessitate 
action.  They  are  motors,  not  motives.  They  are  not  solicitations 
to  action  so  much  as  compulsions.  Having  examined  so  fully  in 
detail  this  involuntary  element  in  our  lives,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
dwell  longer  upon  it.  It  is  important,  however,  that  every  one 
should  distinguish  from  it  that  other  element  in  experience  which 
we  call  voluntary. 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  343 

4.  The  Qualities  of  Motives. 

Motives  do  not  possess  quantity  in  the  sense  that  phys- 
ical forces  do.  They  cannot  be  measured  and  equated  a^s 
quantities  of  force  can.  Motives,  however,  possess  qual- 
ity. They  may  be  characterized  as  ^^ worthy"  or  ^^ un- 
worthy," ^^good"  or  ^^bad,"  ^^right"  or  ^^wrong."  The 
quality  of  motives  is  determined  entirely  by  their  relation 
to  the  law  of  action  Avhich  the  agent  knows  is  binding 
upon  him. 

The  difference  between  quantity  and  quality  in  the  preceding 
paragraph  may  require  explanation.  So  far  as  the  quantity  of  force 
is  concerned,  we  are  certain  that  it  cannot  be  increased  or  dimin- 
ished by  an  act  of  Will.  It  having  been  imparted  to  the  individual, 
his  power  is  measured,  for  the  moment,  by  his  amount  of  force. 
Quality,  however,  cannot  be  thus  measured,  and  hence  many  differ- 
ent kinds  of  action  may  result.  To  illustrate  this  distinction  :  It  is 
undoubted  that  the  same  amount  of  force  may  be  employed  in 
shivering  a  block  of  marble  into  fragments,  or  in  chiseling  it  into  a 
human  form.  In  the  one  case,  we  have  a  mass  of  rubbish  ;  in  the 
other,  the  immortal  Greek  Slave.  Thus  far  the  law  holds  good,  that 
no  new  physical  force  is  created  and  no  force  is  lost.  But  what 
influence,  that  is,  what  qualitative  power,  has  the  mass  of  marbk) 
wantonly  broken  to  draw  men  together  to  see  it  and  to  excite  theii 
admiration  ?  The  Greek  Slave,  on  the  other  hand,  attracts  thou- 
sands, and  will  continue  to  do  so  as  long  as  it  exists.  Is  the  attract- 
ive force  of  this  beautiful  piece  of  statuary  correlated  with  the 
physical  power  put  forth  by  the  artist  in  creating  it  ?  Is  the  law  of 
the  conservation  and  correlation  of  physical  forces,  then,  violated  ? 
Not  at  all.  The  attraction  of  the  statue  lies  in  its  qualities.  Quality 
is  not  a  product  of  physical  force,  but  of  intelligence.  Intelligance, 
then,  may  create  qualities  which  move  vast  multitudes  through  suc- 
cessive ages  !  Here  is  the  emergence  of  a  new  factor.  Virtue  and 
vice  are  not  quantities,  but  qualities.  It  requires  as  much  physical 
force  to  steal  a  dollar  from  another's  pocket  as  to  take  a  dollar  from 
one's  own  and  give  it  to  a  worthy  pauper.  The  motives,  however, 
differ  in  quality.    The  immeasurable  distance  between  honesty  and 


344  PSYCHOLOGY. 

dishonesty,  innocence  and  guilt,  holiness  and  sinfulness,  is  wholly 
a  matter  of  quality.  Moral  impotency,  wherever  it  exists,  is  not  a 
question  of  the  quantity  of  force,  but  of  the  quality  of  the  character. 

5.  The  Relation  of  Motives  to  Feeling. 

A  motive  derives  its  value  from  its  relation  to  feeling. 
If  things  had  no  power  to  affect  our  feelings  in  any  man- 
ner, they  would  not  solicit  us  to  action,  for  they  could 
suggest  no  motives.  There  would  be  no  reasons  for 
acting.  Inaction  would  produce  the  same  result  as  action. 
Hence,  no  effort  would  be  put  forth  by  us. 

This  is  well  understood  by  the  rhetorician,  and  furnishes  the 
ground  for  that  appeal  to  the  feelings  which  is  so  essential  in  all 
practical  eloquence.  We  should  distinguish  between  reasons  for 
lelieving  and  reasons  for  doing.  We  are  led  to  believe  by  argument, 
but  our  beliefs  do  not  always  lead  us  to  act.  In  order  that  we 
should  act,  there  must  be  reasons  not  only  for  believing  certain 
propositions  true,  but  for  considering  such  propositions  as  grounds 
of  action.  Suppose  I  know  that,  at  the  present  moment,  a  ship  is 
sinking  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean.  I  may  know  that,  but  I  do 
not  act.  My  action  will  not  save  the  ship.  But  suppose  I  know 
that  a  person  next  door  is  starving,  and  that  I  can  save  his  life  by 
sending  him  food.  My  sympathy  is  touched,  I  imagine  myself  in 
Ms  place,  I  imagine  how  I  shall  feel  in  the  future  if  this  person 
starves  to  death  and  I  do  not  save  him.  I  wish  to  avert  that  death, 
those  sufferings,  and  my  own  feelings  of  regret.  Here  are  motives, 
or  reasons  not  only  why  I  should  believe,  but  why  I  should  act.  Now 
the  business  of  the  orator,  who  would  move  men  to  action,  is  to 
make  them  feel,  for  in  the  feelings  lie  the  materials  of  motives.  The 
method  by  which  feeling  is  produced  has  been  considered  in  another 
place  (page  253). 

6.   The  Classification  of  Motives. 

The  relation  of  motives  to  feeling  furnishes  ground  for 
their  classification.     Every  variety  of  feeling  affords  the 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  345 

lis  of  a  motive ;  for,  as  it  has  some  quality  of  pain  or 
pleasure,  it  may  be  an  object  of  desire  or  aversion.  As 
these  vary  in  different  ^^ersons,  so  the  vakie  of  motives 
varies.  A  motive  very  influential  with  one  j^erson,  will 
have  little  influence  with  another.  Voluntary  action  is 
not,  then,  the  result  of  a  conflict  of  motives,  each  one  of 
which  has  a  particular  force,  so  that  one  may  be  called 
'''stronger^'  than  another,  \yhat  we  figuratively  call  the 
^^  strength  "  of  a  motive  is  the  esteem  in  which  an  intelli- 
gent agent  holds  it. 

The  relative  value  of  a  motive,  according  to  the  doctrine  just 
stated,  depends  upon  the  conscious  agent.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how 
any  one  who  has  analyzed  the  process  of  voluntary  action  can  doubt 
this.  But  it  may  be  said  that  these  variations  in  the  individual 
characters  need  to  be  accounted  for.  There  may  be  a  qualitative 
degeneration  of  an  agent  that  does  not  follow  of  necessity  from  his 
original  constitution,  but,  possibly,  from  the  extent  of  his  power.  A 
physical  force  cannot  make  any  aberration,  but  a  force  endowed  with 
intelligence,  capable  of  forming  purposes  and  pursuing  self-chosen 
ends,  may  neglect  those  rules  of  action  which  alone  can  guide  it 
safely,  and  thus  at  last  wholly  miss  the  natural  ends  of  its  being.  To 
such  a  being,  eternal  vigilance  would  be  the  price  of  liberty.  Like 
a  man  walking  on  a  narrow  bridge,  which  might  be  passed  in  safety 
with  constant  care,  the  very  extent  of  liberty  might  give  opportunity 
for  a  fall. 

7.  Solicitation  and  Education. 

Solicitation  is  an  important  factor  in  education,  for 
education  is  the  drawing  out  of  the  learner's  powers 
through  his  own  efforts.  The  spontaneous  energies  of  a 
child  impel  him  to  action  ;  but,  if  these  are  undirected, 
they  result  in  a  certain  round  of  performances  having  few 
new  or  useful  results.  Nothing  is  so  natural  to  a  child  as 
play,  in  which  his  surplus  force  tends  to  expend  itself. 


346  PSYCHOLOGY, 

The  business  of  a  teacher  is  to  aid  in  inducing  him  to  put 
forth  effort  in  a  manner  that  will  produce  useful  results. 
To  accomplish  this,  motives  must  be  presented.  Rewards 
and  punishments  are,  therefore,  instituted.  At  first, 
these  may  be  wholly  physical ;  but,  if  higher  motives  are 
not  supplied,  when  these  are  withdrawn,  the  learner  is  not 
prepared  for  liberty.  The  dangers  of  motives  drawn  from 
emulation  have  been  pointed  out  (page  289).  The  noblest 
and  most  lasting  motives  to  study  are  found  in  the  hope 
of  personal  self-perfection.  The  development  of  one's 
powers  is  certainly  a  natural  end  of  action,  and  it  should 
be  made  the  great  motive  in  educational  work.  Even 
small  boys  are  cheered  and  stimulated  with  the  exhorta- 
tion, ^^  Be  a  little  man,  now  \"  To  be  a  man,  in  the  best 
sense,  is  the  noblest  motive  at  all  ages  of  life. 

In   this  section,  on  "Solicitation,"  we    have    con< 
sidered  :— 

1,  Definition  of  Solicitation, 

2,  Motors  and  llotives  Distinguished, 

3,  The  Orifjin  of  Blotives, 

4,  The  Qualities  of  3Iotives, 

5,  The  Relation  of  31otives  to  Feeling. 

6,  The  Classification  of  Motives, 

7,  Solicitation  and  Education, 

Reference  :  (1)  Edwards'  On  the  Will,  Part  II.,  Section  10. 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  347 

SEOTIOIT   n. 

DELIBERATION. 

1.  The  Field  of  Consciousness. 

If  we  examine  the  contents  of  our  minds  at  any  moment 
of  time,  we  find  that  there  are  many  coexistent  elements 
in  the  field  of  consciousness.  Whenever  any  end  is  con- 
templated by  the  mind  as  affording  possible  gratification, 
there  are  associated  with  it  other  elements  of  a  different 
character.  It  is  seldom  that  a  single  motive  is  presented 
to  consciousness  without  the  presence  of  others.  This 
complexity  of  conscious  states  furnishes  the  conditions  of 
deliberation. 

The  question  has  often  been  raised,  How  many  different  objects 
can  the  mind  simultaneously  regard  with  distinctness?  Hamilton 
replies  :  "I  find  the  problem  stated  and  differently  answered  by 
different  philosophers,  and  apparently  without  a  knowledge  of  each 
other.  By  Charles  Bonnet  the  mind  is  allowed  to  have  a  distinct 
notion  of  six  objects  at  once  ;  by  Abraham  Tucker  the  number  is 
limited  to  four  ;  while  Destutt-Tracy  again  amplifies  it  to  six.  The 
opinion  of  the  first  and  last  philosophers  appears  to  me  correct.  You 
can  easily  make  the  experiment  for  yourselves,  but  you  must  beware 
of  grouping  the  objects  into  classes.  If  you  throw  a  handful  of 
marbles  on  the  floor,  you  will  find  it  diffcult  to  view  at  once  more 
than  six,  or  seven  at  most,  without  confusion  ;  but  if  you  group 
them  into  twos,  or  threes,  or  fives,  you  can  comprehend  as  many 
groups  as  you  can  units ;  because  the  mind  considers  these  groups 
only  as  units, — it  views  them  as  wholes,  and  throws  their  parts  out 
of  consideration.  You  may  perform  the  experiment  also  by  an  act 
of  imagination."  '  It  is  a  matter  of  small  importance  precisely  how 
many  distinct  objects  or  ideas  may  be  held  before  consciousness  at 
once ;  the  important  fact  is  that  our  states  of  consciousness  are  com- 


348  PSYCHOLOGY, 

plex.  In  the  case  of  the  hypnotized  subject  (page  331),  this  compiej- 
ity  is  reduced,  by  means  of  a  fixed  attention,  to  a  simplicity  of  con- 
sciousness in  which  only  one  idea,  that  suggested  by  the  operator,  is 
present  at  a  time.  It  is  this  that  renders  the  person  practically  an 
automaton.  But  in  the  normal,  waking  consciousness  many  ideas 
are  present  at  the  same  time.  In  certain  highly  emotional  states, 
however,  all  ideas  but  one  seem  to  be  excluded  from  conscious- 
ness. This  is  the  condition  of  a  person  wholly  overcome  with  a 
comical  idea,  whose  laughter  then  becomes  involuntary  and,  for  a 
time,  uncontrollable.  A  man  who  has  been  grossly  insulted  is 
sometimes  seized  with  a  dominant  idea,  that  of  striking  the  person 
who  has  insulted  him,  his  anger  excluding,  for  the  moment,  every 
other  idea.  This  condition  is  similar  to  that  of  a  monomaniac,  or 
victim  of  a  fixed  idea,  and  anger  is  often  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
incipient  insanity.  If  indulged  in,  it  often  leads  to  complete  loss  of 
mental  balance.  But  the  normal  mental  condition  is  one  in  which 
many  ideas  are  present,  and,  hence,  deliberation  is  possible.  Juris- 
prudence takes  account  of  the  emotional  condition  of  a  culprit,  and 
it  is  generally  recognized  that  overpowering  emotion  interferes  with 
deliberative  power  and  so,  to  a  certain  extent,  renders  a  man  less 
master  of  himself  and  more  of  an  automaton. 


2.  Attention. 

Beyond  dispute,  the  soul  has  the  power  of  attention,  or 
of  concentrating  its  energies  upon  a  single  object  or  group 
of  objects.  This  power  is  possessed  in  various  degrees, 
according  to  the  training  the  mind  has  received  ;  but  all 
persons,  except  the  idiotic  and  the  deranged,  possess  it  in 
some  degree.  When  a  motive  is  presented  soliciting  the 
soul  to  action  of  a  particular  kind  for  a  particular  end, 
the  power  of  attention  enables  the  soul  to  detain  th^^ 
motive  and  exclude  other  elements  of  consciousness  from 
contemplation,  or  to  concentrate  its  energies  upon  some 
other  element  of  consciousness  and  thus  escape  the  influ- 
ence of  that  motive.     If  this  were  the  only  form  of  volun- 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  340. 

tary  power  possessed  by  the  soul,  it  would  be  sufficient  to 
insure,  in  some  degree,  its  self-direction.  This  power 
seems  incapable  of  further  analysis,  but  is  manifest  in 
every  rational  consciousness. 

Even  such  a  physiologist  as  Carpenter,  who  lays  much  more 
stress  on  organic  conditions  than  on  the  revelations  of  consciousness, 
strenuously  argues  against  automatism  in  the  exercise  of  attention. 

He  says:  "  Reflection  on  our  own  mental  experiences  will  satisfy  us, 
that  the  variations  in  the  relative  strength  of  motives  mainly  arise 
from  the  degree  of  attention  that  we  give  to  them  respectively.  An 
excited  feeling  which  would  soon  die  out  if  left  to  itself,  will  retain 
its  potency,  or  even  gain  augmented  force,  if  we  allow  ourselves  to 
brood  over  it ;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  the  power  of  those  remoter 
considerations  which  deliberation  suggests,  increases  in  proportion 
as  they  are  dwelt  upon.  And  just  as,  in  the  case  of  two  magnets, 
we  may  reverse  their  relative  attractions  by  changing  their  respect- 
ive distances  from  the  iron  between  them,  so  can  each  Ugo  who  has 
acquired  the  power  of  directing  his  own  course  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing, alter  the  relative  potency  of  different  sets  of  motives,  by  deter- 
minately  directing  his  attention  to  those  which  would  draw  him  in 
one  direction,  and  by  partially  or  completely  excluding  those  of  an 
opposite  tendency  from  his  mental  view."  ^  He  then  answers  the 
objection,  that  the  fixation  of  attention  is  really  due  to  the  superior 
strength  of  the  motive  itself,  by  saying  :  "No  experience  of  which 
I  am  conscious  is  more  real  to  me,  than  that  if  I  did  not  make  an 
effort  to  keep  my  attention  fixed,  the  desire  alone  would  fail  to  do 
it."  3  He  here  brings  into  notice,  what  each  person  can  test  for  him- 
self, that  the  act  of  voluntary  attention  involves  a  conscious  effort 
of  the  soul.  If  this  fact  of  consciousness  be  not  accepted  as  decisive, 
then  the  psychological  method  is  abandoned  for  the  uncertain  one 
of  physical  analogy ;  which,  in  turn,  is  worthless  unless  we  accept 
the  facts  of  consciousness  which  it  offers. 


3.   Compound  Attention. 

In  addition  to  the  simple  attention  just  described,  we 
are  capable  of  compound  ^ttentionJ  or  of  attending  alter- 


350  PSYCHOLOGY. 

nately  to  different  objects  and  ideas.  This  enables  us  t3 
carry  on  a  process  of  deliberation  by  which  we  compare 
one  motive  with  another  in  the  field  of  consciousness. 
Thus^  for  example,  a  hungry  man,  seeing  bread  in  a 
baker's  Avindow,  is  tempted  to  break  the  glass  and  steal  a 
loaf  of  bread.  The  motive  here  is  the  prospect  of  satisfy- 
ing his  hunger.  But  the  man  is  not  a  mere  machine, 
impelled  by  a  single  force.  He  knows  that,  if  he  is 
caught,  he  will  be  j^unished  as  a  thief.  He  knows,  too, 
that  this  is  a  wrong  act  which  he  is  considering  and  that 
his  conscience  will  reprove  him.  Now  he  can  fix  his 
attention  upon  one  of  these  restraining  motives.  The 
impulse  to  break  the  glass  thus  loses  its  power.  The  ele- 
ment of  time  is  an  important  factor,  for  the  longer  he 
delays  and  deliberates,  the  more  numerous  will  be  the 
restraining  motives  which  arise  in  his  consciousness. 

Even  Bain,  who  finds  most  of  his  exphinations  in  physiology, 
admits  this  power  of  compound  attention,  although, — as  it  seems 
without  sufficient  warrant, — he  thinks  its  exercises  must  be  confined 
to  "  rare  instances."  He  says  :  "We  can  work  ourselves  up  into  a 
loving  mood,  by  forcing  the  attention  and  the  train  of  ideas  upon  all 
the  kindness  and  affection  that  we  may  have  experienced  in  the  past. 
By  a  similar  impulse  of  the  Will,  selecting,  out  of  the  current  of 
intellectual  reproduction,  the  catalogue  of  wrongs  that  have  been 
inflicted  on  us,  we  succeed  in  warming  up  the  glow  of  indignation. 
Dwelling  in  like  manner  on  the  catalogue  of  good  actions  and  quali- 
ties, the  self-complacent  condition  is  nursed  into  being.  So  we 
can  do  something  to  turn  aside  a  gush  of  feeling  that  has  come  over 
us,  by  diverting  the  attention  from  the  exciting  causes,  and  still 
more  effectually  by  forcing  the  thoughts  into  the  opposite  channel, 
as  when  we  silence  a  querulous  fit  by  coercing  the  mind  into  the  act 
of  considering  the  favorable  side  of  our  situation.  We  do  for  our- 
selves what  our  friends,  advisers,  comforters,  and  the  public  preacher, 
or  moralist,  endeavor  to  do  for  us,  that  is,  to  present  forcibly  the 
thoughts,  the  facts,  and  the  reflections  bearing  upon  the  temper 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  351 

that  we  desire  to  put  in  the  ascendant."  "*  It  is  true  that  Bain  con- 
siders this  process  "  a  hard  one,"  as  all  of  us  who  have  attempted  it 
(and  who  has  not?)  will  confess.     It  is  sufficient  if  it  be  possible. 


4.  Objects  of  Deliberation. 

The  act  of  deliberation  is  a  complex  one.  There  are 
three  distinct  objects  that  may  be  made  matters  of  delib- 
eration.    These  are  as  follows  : 

(1)  We  may  deliberate  concerning  the  end  to  be  attained. 
Thus,  there  is  a  question  which  is  better,  to  take  the 
bread  in  the  baker's  window  and  suffer  imprisonment 
and  the  Jiangs  of  conscience  ;  or  to  do  without  this  bread 
and  have  freedom  and  an  approving  conscience. 

(2)  We  may  also  deliberate  concerning  the  means  to  be 
employed  in'  order  to  obtain  bread.  There  are  other 
means  than  stealing.  Here  a  great  variety  of  plans  and 
projects  may  be  suggested,  each  of  which  will  occupy  the 
attention. 

(3)  We  may,  finally,  deliberate  concerning  the  time 
when  the  effort  decided  upon  shall  be  put  forth,  and  thus 
a  delay  may  arise  giving  opportunity  for  more  deliber- 
ation. 

We  see  by  this  analysis  how  far  the  human  mind  is  removed  from 
a  machine  impelled  in  a  particular  manner  by  an  irresistible  force. 
!n  proportion  as  one  deliberates,  he  removes  his  final  action  from 
the  sphere  of  mechanical  necessity.  The  brute  animal,  not  having 
the  faculties  for  reflective  thought,  cannot  deliberate  as  man  can  ; 
having  no  faculty  of  general  intuition,  he  cannot  be  restrained  by 
a  rule  of  rectitude  or  general  principle.  He  is  urged  to  action  by 
his  appetites  and  desires,  immediate  impulsions  which  meet  with  no 
restraint,  except  as  restraint  is  artificially  supplied  by  man.  In  the 
wild  state,  animals  seem  almost  wholly  under  the  dominion  of  their 
appetites  and  instincts.     In  a  state  of  domestication,  having  received 


352  PSYCHOLOGY. 

some  training  from  man,  they  are  governed  in  part  by  the  fear  oi 
punishment  and,  it  may  be,  by  affections  which  they  acquire  foi 
their  benefactors.  But  man  rises  into  a  wholly  different  sphere. 
He  is  influenced  by  considerations  of  abstract  reason,  by  principles 
which  have  no  material  equivalents,  but  exist  only  for  an  intelligence 
that  can  discern  them.  All  social  judgment  and  judicial  procedure 
are  based  upon  man's  possession  of  this  higher  nature.  In  so  far  as 
one  can  not  deliberate,  his  act  is  extenuated.  In  so  far  as  his  act  is 
the  result  of  prolonged  deliberation,  it  is  unpardonable,  if  it  is 
criminal.  The  killing  of  a  man  in  a  heat  of  passion,  under  great 
provocation,  and  the  killing  of  a  man  with  "  malice  aforethought," 
brooded  over  and  deliberately  planned,  are  acts  very  differently 
judged  and  punished  by  all  human  tribunals. 


5.  The  Place  of  Judg-ment  in  Deliberation. 

Deliberation  involves  a  series  of  judgments.  This 
removes  the  final  determination  of  the  course  of  action 
from  the  sphere  of  physical  cause  and  effect.  The 
original  solicitation  to  act  may  have  come  from  a  physical 
cause^  as  the  sight  of  the  baker's  bread  in  the  eyes  of  a 
hungry  man,  and  it  may  result  in  a  physical  act,  as  the 
breaking  of  the  glass  and  the  taking  of  the  bread.  But 
between  the  solicitation  and  the  act  lie  a  series  of  purely 
psychical  actions.  The  chain  of  23hysical  causes  is,  there- 
fore, broken.  An  act  of  judgment  is  an  intellectual  act. 
It  cannot  be  shown  to  have  any  physical  correlative.  But 
it  is  from  this  act  of  judgment,  from  the  decision  to  steal 
the  bread,  that  the  act  proceeds. 

Judgment,  in  its  various  forms,  is  the  most  characteristic  and 
universal  act  of  our  intellectual  life.  It  is  present  in  every  intelli- 
gent operation  and  is  the  form  in  which  all  that  we  can  call  knowl- 
edge is  presented  to  consciousness.  "  Judgment,"  says  Ladd,  "  is  a 
form  of  mental  phenomena  for  the  essential  part  of  which  no  phys- 
ical equivalent  can  be  discovered  or  even  conceived  of. "  ^    When 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  353 

judgments  intervene  between  the  presentation  of  motives  and  volun- 
tary actions,  and  actions  follow  as  a  result  of  judgments,  the  circuit 
of  sensori-motor  action  is  broken  and  a  new  determination  is  intro- 
duced. 

6.   Suspension  of  Action. 

When  the  purpose  to  perform  an  act  has '  been  formed, 
it  is  by  no  means  necessary  that  it  should  be  immediately 
executed.  It  may  be  delayed  for  a  long  period.  This 
suspension  of  action  admits  of  no  physical  exj^lanation. 
If  a  judgment  were  of  the  nature  of  a  motor,  the  moment 
it  was  formed  the  executive  machinery  would  begin  to 
execute  the  act,  as  the  parts  of  a  locomotive  begin  to  move 
when  the  hand  of  the  engineer  turns  on  the  steam.  But 
such  is  not  the  case.  Judgment  indicates  the  volition 
that  is,  at  the  proper  time,  to  be  made,  but  judgment  is 
not  volition.  A  purpose  lies  dormant  in  the  soul,  await- 
ing its  opportunity  of  realization.  New  motives  come 
and  go.  Physical  conditions  wholly  change.  Can  any  one 
doubt  that  the  persistence  of  a  purpose  is  a  psychical, 
not  a  physical  determination  ? 

The  human  soul  is  sometimes  portrayed  as  the  scene  of  a  per- 
petual conflict,  of  which  it  is  a  passive  witness,  and  whose  events  it 
simply  records  without  power  to  modify  them.  How  remote  from 
the  truth  this  representation  is,  every  one  knows  who  has  examined 
his  own  mental  experience.  The  formation  of  a  purpose  steadily 
kept  before  the  mind  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  is  a  refutation  of  this 
ascription  of  pure  passivity  to  the  soul.  It  is  ^yrue  that,  in  many 
matters,  we  suffer  ourselves  to  be  the  creatures  of  chance.  It  is 
easier  to  drift  with  the  current  than  to  oppose  it,  and  we  often  prefer 
to  submit  to  influences  external  to  ourselves  rather  than  to  endure 
the  strains  and  hardships  of  a  struggle  with  opposing  forces.  A 
boatman  in  the  current  of  a  river  may  either  steer  his  boat  or  drift. 
The  fact  that  he  is  content  to  drift  does  not  show  that  he  cannot 
steer.     Every  man  who  has  failed  in  accomplishing  many  of  hi' 


354  PSYCHOLOGY. 

|;)nrposes  in  life  well  knows  that  this  failure  is  owing  to  his  weak- 
ticss  of  purpose  as  well  as  to  the  resistance  of  circumstances.  When 
the  failure  has  relation  to  moral  conduct,  our  consciousness  assures 
lis  that  the  violation  of  moral  law  is  not  so  much  owing  to  the  force 
of  circumstances  as  to  our  own  weakness. 


7.   Deliberation  and  EcUication. 

The  power  to  reflect  is  characteristic  of  the  human 
mind  and  distinguishes  it  from  the  instinctive  nature  of 
brutes.  And  yet  the  teacher  finds  that  there  is  in  children 
a  natural  aversion  to  reflection.  This  leads  us  to  consider 
(1)  the  cultivation  of  thoughtfulness,  and  (2)  the  relation 
of  enlightenment  and  punishment. 

(1)  The  Cultivation  of  Thoughtfulness. — It  is  perfectly 
natural  for  a  healthy  child  to  act  impulsively.  As  we 
have  seen  (pages  20,  22),  it  would  indicate  a  precocious 
self-consciousness  if  a  child  were  very  reflective.  The 
conduct  of  a  child  is  usually  marked  by  thoughtlessness. 
The  common  excuse  for  wrong-doing  is  ^''I  did  not 
think. ^^  In  so  far  as  the  psychical  life  is  surrendered  to 
thoughtlessness,  it  sinks  into  the  sphere  of  the  involun- 
tary and  impulsive.  While  this  tendency  is  pardonable  in 
children,  because  it  is  only  by  degrees  that  thoughtfulness 
can  be  developed,  it  is  inexcusable  in  men.  There  comes 
a  time  to  ^^put  away  childish  things. ^^  The  teacher  aims 
at  the  cultivation  of  thoughtfulness,  for  this  is  necessary 
to  the  develoj^ment  of  the  voluntary  as  well  as  the  intel- 
lectual powers.  At  last,  thoughtfulness  comes  to  be 
exacted,  and  to  say,  "1  did  not  think,"  is  to  criminate 
one^s  self.  When  we  speak  of  ''^reaching  the  years  of 
responsibility,^^  we  mean  that  at  a  certain  age  thoughtful- 
ness, having  become  possible,  is  also  obligatory. 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  351^ 

(2)  The  relation  of  Enlightenment  and  Punishment.— 

To  punish  one  for  Avliat  lie  does  not  understand,  is  to 
make  all  punishment  unavailing.  It  simply  terrifies  and 
brutalizes.  In  order  to  render  pain  a  deterrent,  it  must 
be  presented  as  an  alternative  to  some  action,  so  that  a 
choice  is  presented.  Unless  the  alternatives  are  under- 
stood, there  is  no  appeal  to  intelligence.  The  parent  who 
at  one  time  whips  a  child  and  at  another  laughs  at  him 
for  the  same  act,  neutralizes  the  punishment ;  for  the 
child  does  not  know  when  he  Avill  be  punished  and  when 
he  will  not.  Enlightenment  should,  therefore,  always 
precede  punishment.  The  impulse  often  is  to  punish  an 
offender  when  the  wrong  act  is  done,  regardless  of  his 
knowledge,  and  this  is  sometimes  justified  by  saying  that 
the  child  will  know  better  next  time.  But  if  his  act  has 
proceeded  from  his  ignorance  and  not  from  a  wrong  in- 
tention, the  punishment  is  unnecessary  and  seems  to  the 
recipient  unjust  because  he  is  conscious  of  no  wrong. 
But  when,  after  being  told  that  a  certain  act  will  be 
punished,  the  act  is  performed  and  the  punishment  does 
not  follow,  the  child" s  confidence  in  the  veracity  of  its 
governor  is  weakened  and  government  is  destroyed.  Ex- 
aggerated threats  are  seldom  efficacious  as  deterrents,  be- 
cause the  child  knows  they  Avill  not  be  executed.  Mild 
punishments  administered  firmly  are  more  efficient  than 
the  most  terrific  onslaughts  without  rule  or  certainty. 
The  best  government  results  from  reasonable  jounishments 
which  are  known  to  be  inevitable.  Under  such  a  system 
punishment  of  any  kind  is  rarely  necessary.  The  intelli- 
gence, appealed  to  and  guided,  soon  becomes  seLf-regu- 
lating. 


356  PSYCHOLOGY. 

In  this  section,  on  "Deliberation^"  we  Uave  con- 
sidered :— 

1,  The  Field  of  Consciousness, 

2,  Attention, 

3,  Compound  Attention, 

4,  Objects  of  Deliberation, 

5,  Tlie  Place  of  Judgments  in  Deliberation, 

6,  Suspension  of  Action, 

7,  Deliberation  and  Education, 

References:  (1)  Hamilton's  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  pp.  178, 
177.  (2)  Carpenter's  3Iental  Physiology,  p.  27.  (3)  Id,  (4)  Bain's 
The  Emotions  and  the  Will,  pp.  378,  379.  (5)  Ladd's  Physiological 
Psychology,  p.  594. 


SECTION  in. 

VOLITION. 

1.  The  Nature  of  Volition. 

Volition  (from  the  Latin  velle,  to  will)  is  a  particular  act 
of  Will.  In  order  to  emphasize  its  difference  from  other 
experiences,  we  shall  distinguish  it  from  compulsion, 
desire  and  motive. 

(1)  Volition  is  not  compulsion. — We  are  sometimes  com- 
pelled to  act  in  a  particular  manner.  When  this  is  the 
case,  our  action  may  he  in  opposition  to  our  volition. 
Thus,  a  man  is  compelled  hy  an  officer  of  the  law  to  go 
with  him  to  prison.  His  volition  is  not  to  go.  He  goes 
under  compulsion. 

(2)  Volition   is  not  desire. — One  may  will  to  do  that 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  357 

wliicli  he  does  not  desire  to  do.  Thus,  a  child  may  not 
desire  to  work  when  he  desires  to  play,  yet  he  is  willing  to 
do  so  and  opposes  his  volition  to  his  strongest  desire.  It 
may  be  said  that,  in  this  case,  the  strongest  desire,  on  the 
whole,  prevails.  It  is  difficult  to  answer  this  objection, 
because  so  much  turns  upon  the  meaning  attributed  to 
words.  We  can  simply  appeal  to  experience,  which  will 
convince  us  that  we  do  often  act  in  opposition  to  our 
strongest  desire.  We  may  also  note  that  the  general  con- 
sciousness that  has  created  the  distinctions  of  words  in 
current  language  attests  the  truth  of  this  position  ;  for,  as 
Keid  says,  ^^I  may  desire  meat  or  ease  from  pain  ;  but  to 
say  that  I  ^vill  meat  or  ease  from  pain,  is  not  English."  ^ 
Volition  relates  only  to  an  act ;  desire  may  relate  to  an 
object. 

(3)  Volition  is  not  motive. — A  motive,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  the  expectation  of  satisfaction  as  the  result  of  action. 
This  cannot  be  identified  with  the  volition  to  act,  for  it  is 
the  reamn  of  the  volition.  The  identification  of  motives 
with  volitions  would  involve  us  in  the  absurdity  of  holding 
that  we  have  as  many  volitions  as  we  have  motives,  which 
would  result  in  plain  contradiction. 

If  a  motive  be  identified  with  an  irresistible  tendency,  a  desire  be 
identified  with  such  a  tendency,  and  a  volition,  in  turn,  be  identified 
with  a  desire,  then,  without  doubt,  every  action  is  caused  by  motives. 
But  how  does  this  theory  stand  in  the  light  of  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness? A  motive  is  not  an  irresistible  tendency,  an  irresistible 
tendency  is  not  a  desire,  and  a  desire  is  not  a  volition.  In  short,  it 
is  impossible  to  identify  a  volition,  or  act  of  Will,  with  anything 
else.  It  is  an  act  mi  generis,  like  an  act  of  knowing.  Whoever 
possesses  Will  and  exercises  it,  knows  what  volition  is;  just  as  one 
who  possesses  Intellect  and  exercises  it,  knows  what  knowing  is. 
Whoever  has  not  these  faculties  cannot  form  an  idea  of  these  acts. 


358  PSYCHOLOGY.  ^ 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  them  in  language,  but  it  is  still  possible  to 
show  that  language,  properly  employed,  will  not  permit  of  denying 
or  confounding  them.  For  each  of  the  different  psychical  states  or 
acts  represented  by  such  words  as  ''motive,"  "tendency,"  "desire," 
and  "volition,"  we  have  a  separate  word  which  cannot  be  used  in- 
terchangeably with  the  others.  If  a  volition  is  simply  a  dominant 
desire,  if  that  desire  is  an  irresistible  tendency,  and  if  that  tendency 
is  the  only  kind  of  a  motive  of  which  we  are  capable, — have  we  not 
obliterated  entirely  the  distinction  between  voluntary  and  involun- 
tary action,  and  reduced  all  to  a  dead  level  of  automatism  ?  j^  true 
scientific  procedure  requires  us,  regardless  of  all  theory,  to  discover, 
define,  and  express  the  distinctions  made  by  consciousness. 

2.   The  Forms  of  Volition. 

Volition  is  always  a  particular  act  of  Will^  as  knowing 
is  always  a  particular  act  of  Intellect ;  but,  as  we  may 
distinguish  between  the  forms  of  knowledge,  so  also  we 
may  distinguish  between  the  forms  of  volition.  AVe 
notice  the  following  : 

(1)  Attention. — This  is,  jorobably,  the  most  rudimentary 
form  of  volition.  It  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  voluntary 
power. 

(2)  Assent. — This  is  an  act  of  AYill  with  reference  to  a 
proposition.  The  truth  of  a  proposition  is  determined  by 
the  Intellect,  but  the  acceptance  of  it  is  a  voluntary  act. 
When  doctrines  and  creeds  are  presented  to  the  mind, 
they  may  he  accepted  or  rejected,  as  well  as  examined  and 
discussed.  Sometimes  the  Will  refuses  to  accept  a  prop- 
osition which  the  Intellect  regards  as  true ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  Intellect  sometimes  fails  to  grasp  even 
the  meaning  of  a  proposition  which  the  Will  accej^ts.  As 
an  example  of  the  first,  take  the  case  of  a  ^^erson  who  is 
convinced  that  he  ought  to  perform  a  particular  duty,  but 
will  not  perform  itj  as  an  example  of  the  second,  take 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  359 

the  case  of  a  devout  believer  wlio  assents  to  a  creed  with- 
out being  able  to  comprehend  it. 

(3)  Choice. — When  two  ends  of  action  are  proposed,  we 
may  choose  between  them.  A  machine  cannot  choose.  A 
man  impelled  by  one  irresistible  tendency  cannot  choose. 
But,  given  two  motives,  one  may  accept  the  one  and  re- 
ject the  other  as  a  ground  or  reason  of  action.  But  there 
cannot  be  choice  without  at  least  two  motives.  It  is, 
therefore,  true  that  no  man  acts  voluntarily  without  a 
motive.  But  motives  are  not  the  causes  of  voluntar}^ 
action.  They  are  simply  indispensable  conditions.  If  we 
are  asked  why  we  finally  choose  one  course  of  action  rather 
than  another,  we  can  only  answer,  that  such  was  our  voli- 
tion in  the  light  of  our  estimate  of  the  alternatives.  The 
cause  of  the  choice  is  ourselves.  Whenever  a  constraining 
factor  appears  our  action  ceases  to  be  voluntary. 

(4)  Execution. — Attention,  assent  and  choice  are  purely 
psychical  acts.  We  have  in  addition  the  power  to  carry 
out  our  volitions  in  the  sphere  of  pliysical  motion.  This 
is  sometimes  called  executive  volition.  It  is  not  a  purely 
psychical,  but  a  psycho-physical,  operation.  How  the 
volition  becomes  translated  into  motion  when  we  will  to 
raise  an  arm,  is  as  comj)letely  unknown  to  us  as  how  a 
sense-impression  is  transformed  into  a  perception.  We 
can  only  say  that  there  is  provision  in  our  psycho-physical 
constitution  for  the  execution  of  volitions  through  the 
bodily  organism.  In  performing  such  an  act  as  raising  an 
arm,  we  have  no  consciousness  of  the  nervous  and  mus- 
cular apparatus  by  which  the  volition  is  executed.  We 
simply  fix  the  mind  upon  the  idea  of  the  act,  will  it  to 
take  place,  and  it  happens.  That  the  idea  of  the  action 
in  some  way  reacts  upon  the  organism  is  highly  probable. 


360  PSYCBOLOGY. 

for  we  have  already  seen  that  Phantasy  can  reinstate  cer- 
tain bodily  conditions  (page  90),  that  qualitative  states  of 
consciousness  may  produce  quantitative  effects  in  the 
organism  (page  203),  and  that  ideo-motor  action  may  take 
place  involuntarily  (page  314). 

The  relation  of  volition  to  physical  causation  presents  a  prob- 
lem of  the  greatest  difficulty.  The  difficulty,  however,  grows  out  of 
our  ignorance  of  physical  force  and  its  relations  to  its  effects  quite 
as  much  as  it  does  out  of  anything  mysterious  in  the  nature  of  voli- 
tion. We  know  much  of  the  conditions  under  which  physical  effects 
follow  physical  causes,  but  we  know  little  or  nothing  about  physical 
causes  themselves.  One  set  of  phenomena,  like  the  movements 
which  produce  friction,  will  produce  another  set,  as  those  of  heat; 
and  heat,  at  a  certain  degree  of  temperature,  will  produce  com- 
bustion ;  but  there  is  much  in  these  superficially  common-place 
phenomena  which  no  science  can  penetrate.  The  facts  of  volition 
and  of  consequences  following  volition  are  undeniable.  We  know 
as  much  of  their  connection  as  we  do  of  the  connection  of  a  physical 
£ause  and  its  effect,  that  is,  that  they  are  related  in  the  order  of 
cause  and  effect,  but  no  more.  We  here  come  face  to  face  with  the 
deepest  mystery  of  our  experience — the  ultimate  nature  of  force. 
But  there  is  nothing  in  the  constitution  of  our  minds  or  in  our  ex- 
periences that  leads  us  to  doubt  that  a  causal  connection  exists 
between  volition  and  bodily  action ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  there  is 
nothing  within  the  range  of  our  knowledge  that  requires  us  to  be- 
lieve that  a  volition  either  increases  or  diminishes  the  quantity  of 
physical  force  in  the  body.  Volition  is  qualitative,  not  quantitative. 
We  cannot,  by  willing,  add  one  cubit  to  the  body,  or  make  one  hair 
black  or  white,  but  we  can  determine  the  hiiid  of  actions  we  will 
perform  with  the  forces  at  our  disposal.  We  find  ourselves  in  pos- 
session of  a  marvellously  adjusted  and  delicately  poised  mechanism 
which  is,  in  health,  obedient  to  our  volitions.  We  find  ourselves 
capable  of  attending,  assenting,  choosing,  and  executing,  within 
certain  limits,  without  constraint.  We  find  and  declare  ourselves  to 
be  such  beings.  The  facts  are  not  in  the  least  dependent  upon  any 
theory  of  physical  forces.  If  it  is  proposed  to  reduce  our  volitions 
to  terms  of  physical  force,  there  lies  before  those  who  attempt  this 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  361 

explanation  the  mastery,  first,  of  a  theory  of  the  nature  of  physical 
force  which  physicists  will  accept  as  satisfactory;  and,  second,  of  a 
method  of  showing  how  the  phenomena  of  which  we  are  conscious 
can  be  expressed  in  such  terms.  The  present  theory  of  the  correla- 
lion  and  conservation  of  forces  offers  little  hope  of  success ;  for  the 
volitions  of  a  Napoleon,  for  example,  which  changed  the  face  of 
Europe,  are  wholly  incommensurable  with  foot-pounds  of  force.  If 
it  be  objected  that  the  conscious  soul  cannot  originate  more  than  is 
concentrated  into  it  by  physical  forces,  as  present  in  food  and  air,  it 
may  be  asked  how  motion  can  anywhere  originate,  since  it  must  b-- 
retraced  to  something  else,  and  how  it  can  ever  change  its  direction, 
since  nothing  can  act  except  as  moved  upon  from  without  ?  Whence 
it  results,  either  that  everything  has  eternally  been  what  it  now  is, 
or  that  a  Power  above  nature  has  caused  things  to  be  as  they  are  by 
supplying  an  external  impulse.  If  the  former  alternative  be  accepted, 
an  uncluinged  course  of  nature  is  eternal.  If  the  latter  be  accepted, 
it  may  be  held  that  this  Power  has  bestowed  upon  us  a  power  of 
affecting  the  physical  order  by  a  reaction  of  intelligence  upon 
mechanism,  similar  to  that  which  has  coordinated  the  physical  forces 
according  to  a  plan  which  binds  matter  to  the  service  of  mind. 


3.   Ijiberty  and  Necessity. 

The  words  "  Liberty  "  and  "  Necessity"  have  been  em- 
ployed to  designate  two  opposite  views  of  the  nature  of 
Volition.  Both  words  are  used  in  a  number  of  different 
senses.  In  the  ])liij8ical  sense,  every  occurrence  is  neces- 
sary. In  the  intellectual  sense,  certain  judgments  follow 
necessarily  from  other  judgments  under  the  laws  of 
thought,  although  we  by  no  means  necessarily  observe 
these  laws  in  our  thinking.  In  the  moral  sense,  there  is 
also  a  kind  of  necessity,  as  when  we  regard  punishment  as 
morally  necessary  in  human  society.  It  is  obvious  that 
the  word  ''necessity''  has  at  least  three  different  mean- 
ings. The  controversy  concerning  the  "  Freedom  of  the 
Will "  lias  been,  to  a  great  extent,  a  dispute  about  words. 


362  PSYCHOLOOY. 

We  shall  simply  state  these  theories  and  attempt  to  point 
out  the  truth  there  is  in  each. 

(1)  The  Theory  of  Liberty. — If  we  meant  nothing  by 
the  word  ^^'^  liberty/'  there  could  be  no  intelligible  discus- 
sion about  it.  The  proper  meaning  of  the  word  is  ''free- 
dom from  compulsion.'^  Some  of  our  actions  are  ''free" 
in  the  sense  that  we  choose  the  ends  to  be  attained  and 
the  means  for  attaining  the  ends,  without  restraint.  That 
we  do  so,  is  evident  from  the  following  considerations : 
{a)  We  distinguish  between  voluntary  and  involuntary 
actions ;  {h)  we  are  conscious  when  acting  that  we  choose 
without  restraint;  (c)  we  feel  an  obligation  to  perform 
some  actions  and  to  avoid  others;  {d)  we  experience 
ethical  emotions  in  view  of  our  own  actions  and  the 
actions  of  others  ;  (c)  all  administration  of  justice  assumes 
in  men  the  power  to  act  freely  and  adapts  punishment  to 
the  apparent  degree  of  freedom  ;  (/)  all  languages  con- 
tain words  representing  the  ideas  of  "choice/'  "free- 
dom/' "guilt/'  "innocence/'  etc.  We  are,  then,  in  some 
sense,  conscious  of  liberty.  Some  extremists  have  held 
that  we  can  and  do  act  without  motives,  and  that 
volitions  are  uncaused  acts.  It  is  this  extreme  position, 
or  what  has  been  mistaken  for  it,  that  those  who  hold  the 
opposite  view  have  usually  attacked. 

(2)  The  Theory  of  Necessity. — We  must  admit  the 
reality  of  some  kind  of  necessity,  or  there  could  be  no  dis- 
cussion. The  jiroper  meaning  of  "necessity"  is  "abso- 
lute compulsion."  Given  a  physical  force  acting  without 
interference,  the  effect  must  of  necessity  follow.  This  is 
practically  undisputed,  although  it  is  theoretically  doubt- 
ful if  we  accept  the  idea  of  cause  advocated  by  Hume  and 
his  followers  (page  185).     But  the  question  here  relates  to 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  303 

the  necessity  of  volitions.  Given  a  particnlar  volition, 
can  we  say  tliat  it  i;)roceeds  from  absolute  compulsion  ? 
The  Necessitarian  gives  an  affirmative  answer.  His 
reasons  are  :  {a)  Every  event  follows  necessarily  from  its 
cause  ;  {!))  a  volition  is  an  event  which  can  be  traced  back 
to  its  determining  causes ;  (r)  the  activities  of  the  mind 
are  all  events  which  are  caused  the  same  as  other  events. 
Here  a  difference  must  be  noted.  Some  Necessitarians 
admit  none  but  23hysical  causes  and  regard  every  mental 
event  as  produced  by  physical  causes.  Others  admit  a 
difference  between  physical  and  psychical  activities,  but 
regard  every  event  as  determined  with  equal  necessity  by 
its  causes. 

If  we  adhere  to  the  psychological  method,  we  must  abide 
by  the  decision  of  consciousness.  In  the  act  of  choice, 
we  are  conscious  of  being  able  to  choose  without  compul- 
sion either  of  the  alternatives  presented.  We  cannot  say, 
therefore,  that  our  choice  is  a  necessary  one.  We  cannot 
say,  on  the  other  hand,  that  our  determination  is  un- 
caused. We  are  conscious  of  being  the  determining  cause. 
We  are  conscious  of  freedom  at  the  time  of  acting,  and  it 
is  in  the  light  of  this  consciousness  that  we  admit  our 
responsibility. 

The  history  of  this  controversy  is  long  and  complicated,  having 
a  theological  as  well  as  a  philosophical  bearing.  The  controversy 
is,  however,  much  more  theoretical  than  practical  ;  for,  whatever 
conclusions  we  adopt,  we  must  practically  assume  moral  freedom  in 
all  our  personal  conduct  and  judgments  of  others.  If  we  were  to 
assume  that  whatever  is  destined  to  happen,  will  happen,  without 
regard  to  our  actions, — the  absurdity  of  the  assumption  would  soon 
become  manifest  in  the  practical  consequences..  We  should  put 
forth  no  exertions  toward  any  end,  we  should  blame  no  one  for  his 
conduct  whatever  it  might  be,  and  we  could  not  logically  resent 


364  PSYCIIOLOOT. 

any  indignity  or  apparent  injustice  that  might  be  visited  upon  ouiy 
selves,  for  our  assumption  would  require  us  to  confess  that  all  was 
necessary !  Unless  consciousness  be  admitted  as  a  final  and  deci- 
sive arbiter,  the  discussion  of  the  question  would  be  endless,  for  we 
could  find  no  positive  evidence  upon  the  subject  outside  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  men.  The  moment  we  appeal  to  the  analogies  of 
physical  nature,  we  transfer  the  subject  to  another  sphere  of  rela- 
tions and  really  involve  ourselves  in  a  petitio  principii;  for  we 
thereby  assume  that  the  laws  of  the  physical  world  are,  without 
modification,  universal  in  the  psychical  sphere.  But,  having  thus 
abandoned  the  veracity  of  consciousness,  we  should  fall  into  the 
skepticism  of  Sensationalism,  after  the  manner  of  Hume,  and  losing 
the  rational  intuition  of  universal  causation,  we  should  end  our  dis- 
cussion with  a  7ion  sequitur.  The  moment  we  exclude  all  evidence 
except  that  furnished  by  the  senses,  we  lose  the  rational  principle 
of  cause  altogether ;  and,  as  we  have  seen  (page  189),  are  unable  to 
show  that  any  event  stands  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  to  any 
other.  Those  who  desire  to  inform  themselves  of  the  history  of  the 
free-will  controversy,  will  find  accounts  in  the  encyclopedias  and 
statements  from  the  theological  point  of  view  in  the  works  on 
systematic  theology.  Many  modern  Necessitarians  prefer  to  call 
themselves  Determinists  and  their  doctrine  Determinism.  Mill, 
Bain,  and  Spencer  may  be  regarded  as  the  leading  modern  advocates 
of  necessity,  although  it  has  been  taught  by  many  theologians,  of 
whom  Edwards  is  the  chief.  The  doctrine  of  Libertarianism  is  held, 
with  variations  and  modifications  of  statement,  by  Reid,  Hamilton, 
and  the  majority  of  those  who  have  followed  them  in  philosophy. 
A  long  line  of  special  treatises  has  appeared  in  America  in  favor  of 
the  freedom  of  the  Will.  The  most  distinguished  of  these  writers 
are  Day,  Tappan,  Upham,  Bledsoe,  Whedon,  and  Hazard.  Their 
works  are  generally  accessible,  and  should  be  examined  by  those  who 
are  interested  in  this  subject. 


4.  Volition  and  Education. 

While  it  is  clear  that  volition  is  not  caused  by  motives 
in  any  mechanical  manner,  it  is  equally  evident  that  we 
do  not  act  voluntarily  without  motives.     There  are,  then, 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  365 

iwo  important  points  of  interest  for  the  educator  in  rela- 
tion to  volition  :  (1)  the  presentation  of  motives,  and  (3) 
the  sphere  of  freedom. 

(1)  The  Presentation  of  Motives. — We  can  elicit  action 
only  by  offering  suitable  motives.  If  the  motive  presented 
be  relatively  insignificant,  or  relatively  dominant,  there 
is  little  opportunity  for  voluntary  action  ;  for  an  insig- 
nificant motive  is  not  seriously  taken  into  account,  and  a 
dominant  motive  is  permitted  to  decide  a  question  Avith- 
out  deliberation.  When  a  child,  for  example,  is  required 
to  choose  between  studying  a  quarter  of  an  hour  during 
the  school  period  and  remaining  an  hour  after  school, 
there  is,  properly  speaking,  no  opportunity  for  choice. 
It  is  simply  a  question  of  more  or  less,  and  intuition  shows 
that  a  i^art  of  an  hour  is  less  than  a  whole.  Will  is  devel- 
oped only  by  exercise,  and  its  exercise  requires  the  presen- 
tation of  motives  of  different  kinds.  In  so  far  as  it  is  tlie 
purpose  of  a  parent  or  teacher  to  encourage  the  develop- 
ment of  voluntary  power,  which  is  the  essential  element  in 
that  self-government  for  which  education  is  a  preparation, 
the  opportunities  for  a  real  choice  must  be  furnished. 

(2)  The  Sphere  of  Freedom. — The  greatest  mistake  in 
the  moral  training  of  children  is  to  suppose  that  mere 
obedience  is  the  end  of  government.  Obedience  to  parental 
or  tutorial  authority  may  be  perfect,  but  if  it  is  produced 
by  personal  fear  alone,  the  moment  this  fear  is  removed 
the  government  is  abolished.  It  is  true  that  habit  counts 
for  something,  but  when  the  fear  upon  Avliich  a  habit  has 
been  based  is  removed,  an  opposite  habit  is  likely  to  be 
formed  as  soon  as  personal  freedom  is  secured.  It  is 
notorious  that  children  most  rigidly  trained,  when  free 
irom  authority,  are  wholly  incapable  of  self-direction  and 


366  PSYCHOLOGY. 

rush  into  tlie  opposite  extremes.  The  reason  is,  that  they 
are  wholly  unpreiJared  for  freedom.  They  can  never  be 
prej^ared  for  it  except  by  the  moderate  enjoyment  of  it,  as 
the  eye  can  never  be  prepared  in  darkness  for  the  light,  but 
must  be  gradually  adapted  to  it.  It  is  in  the  sphere  of  free- 
dom alone  that  self-regulation  can  be  cultivated.  This  does 
not  warrant  great  laxity,  but  it  requires  a  certain  freedom 
of  action  in  which  one  is  allowed  to  choose  for  himself 
and  is  held  responsible  for  his  choice  by  submitting  to  the 
consequences.  That  this  sphere  of  freedom  must  be 
restricted,  is  evident  from  the  fatal  results  which  would 
follow  if  children  were  left  to  natural  consequences  alone. 
It  would  be  simply  criminal  to  permit  a  child  to  experi- 
ment with  poison.  And  yet  a  limited  freedom  is  essential 
to  the  exercise  and  growth  of  voluntary  power. 

In  this  section,  on  "  Volition,"  we  have  consideretl : 

1,  The  Nature  of  Volition, 

2,  The  Forms  of  Volition, 

3,  Libert]/  and  Necessity, 

4,  Volition  and  Education, 

Reference:  (1)  Reid's  Works,  II.,  p.  53^ 


SECTION    lY* 

THE    DEVELOPMENT    OF   WILL 

1.   Snniniary  of  Results. 

In  examining  the  modes  of  activity  of  which  we  are 
capable,  we  have  distinguished  two  main  classes  of  actions, 
the  involuntary  and  the  voluntary.     We  have  found  that 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  367 

Will  cannot  be  identified  with  knowledge,  or  with  feeling, 
or  with  a  mere  union  of  them.  It  is  a  power  of  the  soul 
to  direct  its  own  activity  toward  ends  of  its  own  choosing. 
Intellect,  Sensibility,  and  Will  are  not  three  separate 
beings,  but  faculties  possessed  by  one  being  in  whose 
self-conscious  unity  these  powers  cooperate. 
We  may  summarize  actions  as  follows  : 


I.   Involuntary, 
in  the  form  of 


II.  Voluntary, 

in  the  form  of 


1.  Reflex  Actions, 

2.  Sensori-motor  Actions,  and 

3.  Ideo-motor  Actions;  all  being  either 

(1)  instinctive,  or  (2)  acquired. 

1.  Attention, 

2.  Assent, 

3.  Choice, 

4.  Execution. 


2.  The  Stages  of  Volition. 

The  four  forms  of  volition  represent  successive  stages  of 
voluntary  action.  Attention  is  the  most  simple  and  rudi- 
mentary. Assent  accompanies  a  proposition.  Choice 
occurs  when  alternatives  are  presented.  Execution  is  the 
realization  of  an  ideal  state  in  physical  movement.  These 
forms  of  voluntary  action  are  possible  only  through  the 
cooperation  of  knowledge  and  feeling,  but  cannot  be 
reduced  to  them  either  separately  or  unitedly. 

To  those  who  do  not  make  a  careful  analysis  of  experience,  voli- 
tion may  seem  to  be  identical  with  a  union  of  knowledge  and  feel- 
ing; but  a  careful  analysis  renders  the  distinction  clear.  Purely 
involuntary  actions,  as,  for  example,  the  act  of  winking,  may  be 
both  known  and  felt,  ivithout  volition.  When  the  same  act  is  per- 
formed voluntarily,  there  is  an  additional  element  in  the  experience 
— the  volition  to  perform  the  act.  It  is  this  additional  factor  which 
renders  Will  irreducible  to  a  mere  union  of  knowledge  and  feeling. 


368  PSYCHOLOGY. 

3.  The  Development  of  Will. 

The  power  of  self -direction  is  evidently  capable  of  de« 
velopment.  Our  ex|)erience  exhibits  a  gradual  extension 
of  voluntary  control  over  activities  which  were  at  first  not 
under  the  dominion  of  Will.  This  growth  of  voluntary 
power  must  not^  however,  be  confused  with  a  development 
of  Will  out  of  something  which  is  not  Will.  The  in- 
voluntary can  never  by  mere  complication  become  volun- 
tary. Some  psychologists  have  attempted  to  derive  Will 
from  mere  reflex  action.  ^  However  refined  and  complex 
a  system  of  physical  forces  may  be,  its  action  does  not 
cease  to  be  mechanical.  All  who  have  attempted  to 
evolve  the  voluntary  from  the  involuntary,  have  ended, 
with  logical  consistency,  in  automatism.  Will,  like  Intel- 
lect and  Sensibility,  is  a  primary  and  underived  faculty. 
It  can  be  developed  only  by  exercise.  Whoever  does  not 
exercise  his  self-directing  power  soon  degenerates  into  the 
mere  creature  of  circumstances  and  is  swept  along  like  a 
vessel  without  a  helmsman. 

The  difficulty  in  deriving  voluntary  action  from  involuntary,  or 

of  tracing  the  development  of  Will  from  reflex  action,  has  been  well 
stated  by  Wundt.  He  says:  ''If  Will  did  not  exist  already,  it  would 
be  incapable  of  choosing  any  movement  whatever  among  the  pre- 
existing involuntary  movements."  ^  Involuntary  action  might  go  on 
increasing  in  complication,  but  it  would  never  become  voluntary. 
The  distinction  between  voluntary  and  involuntary  would,  there- 
fore, never  arise.  But,  if  there  are  no  voluntary  actions,  it  would  be 
as  well  to  deny  their  existence  without  taking  the  trouble  to  explain 
their  development.  Bain  candidly  admits  that,  "without  spon- 
taneity the  growth  of  the  Will  is  inexplicable."^  But  nothing  is 
gained  here,  for  he  soon  refers  this  "spontaneity"  to  "nutrition," 
"  convulsions,  spasms,  and  unnatural  excitement  of  the  active  energy 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  369 

in  the  nerve  centres."  **  To  explain  the  genesis  of  Will  by  referring 
the  first  voluntary  movements  to  nutrition  and  incipient  epilepsy 
would  be  grimly  humorous,  if  the  attempt  did  not  claim  to  be 
scientific.  The  ineptness  of  the  endeavor  is  well  pointed  out  by  one 
who  is  quite  in  sympathy  with  Bain's  purpose,  but  who  cannot 
accept  his  explanation.  "Nerve-force,"  says  Ribot,  "can  be  only 
the  transformation  of  some  prior  physical  force.  The  inequality  of 
its  distribution  ovei  the  body  must  also  depend  on  physical  or 
mechanical  causes.  Hence,  we  do  not  see  what  becomes  of  this 
'spontaneity,'  acted  on  as  it  is  on  all  sides  by  mechanical  laws."  ^ 
The  problem  is  here  confessed  by  all,  but  it  is  not  solved.  Will  ex- 
ists, and  it  cannot  be  derived  from  anything  that  is  not  Will.  We 
are  compelled  to  admit  the  presence  of  what  Wundt  calls  "the 
personal  factor." 


4.  Habitual  Volition. 

Volitions  many  times  repeated,  even  when  they  do  not 
lose  their  voluntary  quality,  become  progressively  easier, 
and  tend  at  last  to  become  habitual.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  the  wise  man  warns  the  young  against  first  steps 
in  wrong  directions.  Our  freedom,  unless  constantly 
guarded,  is  easily  lost.  Habitual  volitions,  like  habitual 
feelings,  consolidate  into  moral  character,  which  is  meas- 
ured and  classified  according  to  the  standards  of  Moral 
Law. 

We  see  in  this  connection  how  the  soul,  naturally  endowed  with 
freedom,  may  by  voluntary  acts  put  itself  in  bondage.  This  servi- 
tude, voluntary  at  first,  may  become  necessary  at  last.  It  is  because 
of  this  unquestioned  limitation  of  freedom  in  every  established 
character  that  the  degree  of  liberty  in  any  particular  case  and  with 
reference  to  any  particular  act  becomes  a  matter  of  uncertainty  and 
dispute.  If  we  choose  to  magnify  this  undeniable  subjection  of  the 
soul  to  modes  of  activity  not  at  first  necessary  and  to  exclude  from 
view  the  evidences  of  remaining  freedom,  it  is  possible  to  convince 
ourselves   that  we   are,    at   any   moment,    to  a   great   extent,  the 


370  PSYCHOLOGY. 

creatures  of  our  owu  past.  But  this  does  not  release  us  from 
responsibility  for  what  we  have  made  ourselves  and  even  more 
clearly  for  what  we  are  making  ourselves  to-day. 


5.   The  Inheritance  of  Will. 

That  Will  is  inherited  admits  of  no  doubt,  for  as  a 
primitive  faculty  of  the  soul  it  is  essential  to  the  complete- 
ness of  our  psychical  being.  Whether  or  not  Will  as 
inherited  contains  any  particular  determination  to  act  in 
a  special  manner,  is  another  question.  Some  attempt  has 
been  made  to  show  from  the  facts  of  history  that  ^^  strong '' 
and  ^'^  weak"  AVills  are  capable  of  transmission  by  inherit- 
ance.^ The  evidence  is  certainly  not  very  conclusive. 
That  susceptibility  to  certain  motives  is  inherited,  is  more 
clear.  The  accumulations  of  fact  are  too  small  to  justify 
a  generalization,  and  there  would  be  great  difficulties  in 
the  interpretation  of  any  amount  of  such  evidence,  how- 
ever large  it  might  be. 

Wundt  says:  "When  it  is  asserted  that  the  character  of  man  is  a 
product  of  air  and  light,  of  education  and  destiny,  of  food  and 
climate,  and  that  it  is  necessarily  predetermined  by  these  influences, 
like  every  natural  phenomenon,  the  conclusion  is  absolutely  un- 
demonstrable.  Education  and  destiny  presuppose  a  character  which 
determines  them ;  that  is  here  taken  to  be  an  effect  which  is  partly  a 
cause.  But  the  facts  of  psychical  heredity  make  it  very  highly 
probable  that,  could  we  reach  the  initial  point  of  the  individual  life, 
we  should  there  find  an  independent  germ  of  personality  which 
cannot  be  determined  from  without,  inasmuch  as  it  precedes  all  ex- 
ternal determination."  ''  Whatever  may  be  the  extent  of  inherited 
tendency,  responsibility  relates  to  our  volitions.  Inherited  tend- 
encies beyond  the  control  of  the  Will  show  how  responsibility  rests 
upon  the  past  as  well  as  upon  the  present  generation,  and  links  the 
present  to  the  future  with  an  obligation  that  may  not  be  lightly  dis* 
regarded. 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION,  371 

6.  The  Law  of  Voluntary  Action. 

That  a  being  of  such  capacities  as  man  possesses  should 
be  without  a  law  for  his  voluntary  activities^  is  not  in 
analogy  with  the  universality  of  hnv  in  nature.  The  law 
for  the  Will  is  the  Moral  Law.  The  moral  nature  of  man 
is  the  subject  of  which  Ethics  is  the  science.  Psychology 
shows  that  man  has  an  Intellect  capable  of  apprehending 
a  general  rule  of  conduct;  that  his  Sensibility  affords 
ethical  emotions,  which  vary  in  kind  according  as  this 
rule  is  or  is  not  obeyed ;  and  that  he  possesses  Will,  the 
faculty  of  self -direction  which  enables  him  to  observe  this 
rule.  The  Avay  in  which  Moral  Law  is  known,  and  the 
rights  and  duties  that  arise  from  the  knowledge  of  it,  are 
questions  belonging  to  the  science  of  Ethics.  Psychology 
completes  its  special  investigation  in  stating  the  fact  that 
the  soul  is  a  moral  agent,  capable  of  knowing  and  obeying 
Moral  Law,  to  which  the  harmony  of  its  nature  requires 
that  the  Will  should  be  subjected. 

The  order  of  nature  culminates  in  man,  and  nature,  through 
the  wonderfully  adjusted  mechanism  of  man's  nervous  system,  is 
under  the  dominion  of  Will.  So  far  as  a  purpose  is  discernible  in 
the  constitution  of  nature  and  of  man,  tliat  purpose  is  realized  in 
man's  fulfillment  of  his  destiny  as  a  moral  being.  Freedom  is  the 
essential  condition  of  moral  character.  Obedience  to  moral  law  is 
the  condition  of  a  perfected  personality.  The  soul,  therefore,  finds 
its  meaning  in  this  conformity  to  the  creative  purpose.  The  true 
dignity  of  human  nature  does  not  consist  in  the  mere  possession  of 
superior  power,  but  in  the  conformity  of  all  the  faculties  to  the 
Divine  plan.  As  Reid  has  said :  ' '  As  far  as  the  intention  of  nature 
appears  in  the  constitution  of  man,  we  ought  to  comply  with  that 
intention,  and  to  act  agreeably  to  it."®  If  the  creative  purpose  has 
been  expressed  not  only  in  nature,  but  by  a  special  revelation,  then 
we  ought  to  act  agreeably  to  that  also  and  for  the  same  reason. 


372  PSYCHOLOGY, 

7.  The  Iniinortality  of  tho  Soul. 

The  questions  of  origin  and  destiny  both  lie  bej^ond  the 
limits  of  direct  observation  and^  therefore^  beyond  the 
sphere  of  exact  science.  The  mode  of  the  souFs  beginning 
is  as  mysterious  as  the  mode  of  its  future  existence.  The 
Power  that  gave  us  being  can  give  us  also  immortality. 
Man^s  earthly  life  seems  to  be  an  unfinished  life.  En- 
dowed with  reason,  man  is  the  interpreter  of  nature ;  capa- 
ble of  moral  obligation  and  ethical  emotions,  he  is  a 
subject  of  moral  government ;  gifted  with  freedom,  he  is 
capable  of  a  moral  character  that  distinguishes  him  from 
inferior  creatures.  The  latest  to  appear  in  the  series  of 
living  beings  on  the  earth,  the  only  imaginable  fulfillment 
of  rational  purpose  in  geological  history,  it  is  most  natural 
that  nature^s  interpreter  should  find  nature's  interpreta- 
tion in  his  own  immortal  life. 

Although  the  questions  of  origin  and  destiny  lie  beyond  the  scope 
of  science,  the  interest  attaching  to  the  soul's  future  may  warrant 
some  attempt  to  point  out  the  limits  of  our  natural  knowledge.  The 
relation  between  soul  and  body  is  one  of  coexistence,  not  of  identity. 
In  the  processes  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  acting  the  soul  is  dependent 
upon  the  body  for  its  communication  with  the  world  of  sense- 
impressions.  Still,  as  Bowne  has  said,  "When  once  a  mental  life 
has  begun,  and  a  store  of  ideas  has  been  accumulated,  it  seems  quite 
possible  that  a  self-enclosed  thought-life  might  continue  thereafter 
in  entire  independence  of  any  organism.  No  necessity  for  an  organ- 
ism appears,  except  for  communication  with  the  outer  world.'' ^ 
"  The  abstract  possibility  of  our  existing  apart  from  the  body  admits 
of  no  dispute ;  but  this  is  far  enough  from  proving  that  we  shall  so 
exist.  Yet  the  fact  that  the  soul  cannot  be  identified  with  the  body 
shows  that  the  destruction  of  the  body  contains  no  assignable  ground 
for  the  destruction  of  the  soul.  .  .  .  Every  real  thing  must  be  as- 
sumed to  continue   in   existence  until   its   annihilation  has   been 


VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  373 

proved.  If,  then,  this  subject  is  to  be  argued  upon  the  basis  of  our 
customary  ideas,  the  burden  of  proof  woukl  lie  altogether  upon  the 
believer  in  annihilation ;  for  the  soul  is  real,  and  must  be  assumed 
to  exist  until  its  destruction  has  been  shown.  Of  course  such  a 
showing  is  impossible ;  and  hence  the  presumption  must  remain  in 
favor  of  continued  existence."^"  If  any  difficulty  arises  from  the 
apparent  necessity  of  ascribing  immortality  to  the  souls  of  brutes,  it 
should  be  considered  that  the  probability  of  immortality  is  not 
argued  from  the  soul's  existence,  but  from  its  adaptation  to  im- 
mortal life.  The  brute  knows  nothing  of  the  meaning  of  nature,  of 
moral  law,  or  of  a  creative  plan.  Reason  demands  that  whatever  is 
necessary  to  the  completion  of  a  plan  may  be  rationally  expected. 
Moral  excellence  seems  to  present  a  claim  to  continued  being,  and 
everything  else  seems  not  an  end  but  a  means.  If  brutes  possess  no 
moral  value,  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should  share  with  rational 
creatures  in  immortal  life. 

In  this  section,  on  "The  Development  of  Will,"  we 
have  considered:— 

1.  Simifnary  of  Mesults, 

2.  The  Stages  of  Volition, 

3.  The  Uevelojnnent  of  Will, 
d.  Habitual  Volition, 

5,  The  Inheritance  of  Will, 

6,  The  Law  of  Voluntary  Action, 

7,  The  Inirnortality  of  the  Soul, 

References:  (1)  See  Spencer's  Principles  of  Psycliology,  I.,  Part 
IV.,  Chapter  IX.  (3)  Wundt's  Physiological  Psychology  (not  trans- 
lated into  English),  Chapter  XX.  (3)  Bain's  The  Senses  and  the 
Intellect,  p.  70.  (4)  Id.,  p.  73.  (5)  Ribot's  Heredity,  p.  341.  (6) 
Id.,  Part  I.,  Chapter  VII.  (7)  Wundt's  Lectures  on  the  Human  and 
Animal  Soul  (not  translated),  II.,  p.  416.  (8)  Reid's  Worhs,  II., 
p.  638.  (9)  Bowne'^  Introduction  to  Psychological  Theory,  p.  315. 
(10)  Id.,  p.  3ia- 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES 


ii^lustratiye  figures.  37? 

Fto.  1. 


■it9.  1. — Diagram  illustrating  the  general  arrangement  of  the  nervous  system. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


379 


Fig.  3.— A,  a  transverse  section  through  the 
cord,  to  show  the  form  of  the  grey  comua,  or 
horns,  in  the  midst  of  the  white  substance. 
B,  shows  the  same  parts  ;  and  also  the  mem- 
branes of  the  cord,  and  the  anterior  and  pos- 
terior roots  of  a  pair  of  spinal  nerves  springing 
from  its  sides. 


Fig.  2. 


■'X 


Fig.  2.--A  vertical  median  section  through 
the  cavity  of  the  skull  and  the  spinal  canal,  to 

show  the  way  in  which  the  brain  and  its  pro- 
longation, the  spinal  cord,  are  lodged  within 
the  bony  axis  of  the  body,  a  is  the  cerebrum, 
or  brain  proper;  h  the  cerebellum,  or  little 
brain;  m  the  medulla  oblongata  ;  c  the  spinal 
canal;  c' the  lower  end  of  the  spinal  cord; 
e  the  roots  of  the  lumbar  or  sacral  nerves, 
forming  the  cauda  equina,  or  so-called  horse's- 
tail  ;  s  the  sacra!  plexus  of  nerves,  and  n  the 
great  sciatic  nerve.  This  cut  also  shows  sec- 
tions of  the  bodies  and  rings  of  all  the. verte- 
brae ;  and  of  the  nose,  mouth,  throat,  gullet, 
tongue,  larynx,  and  windpipe.  The  brain  and 
spinal  cord  are  protected  from  the  bones  by 
the  dura  mater,  by  two  layers  of  the  arachnoid, 
and  by  the  inner  membrane,  or  pia  mater. 
(Bourgery.) 


j^y- 


pi| 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


381 


Pig.  4. 


Fig.  4.— General  View  of  the 
Cerebrum.  1.  The  integuments 
of  the  head  tuj-ned  down.  2,  2. 
The  edge  of  the  remaining  part 
of  the  cranium,  the  upper  having 
been  removed.  3.  The  dura  ma- 
ter. 4.  The  convolutions  and  an- 
fractuosities  of  the  brain. 


Fig.  5. 


Fig.  ^—A  horizontal 
section  of  the  Cranium 
and  Cerebrum.  1,  1.  The 
craniimi.  2,  2.  The  dura 
mater.  3,  3.  The  celhilnr 
eubstance  of  the  rere- 
brum.  4,  4.  The  tubular 
eubstance.  5,  5.  The  lat- 
eral ventricles  of  tue  brain. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


383 


Fig.  6. — Horizon- 
tal section  through 
the  cerebrum,  to 
show  the  mode  iu 
which  the  two  hem- 
ispheres, a,  a,  are 
joined  together  by 
the  transverse  band 
of  white  substance, 
named  the  corpus 
callosum.  In  front 
and  behind  this,  the 
longitudinal  fissure 
separates  the  two 
hemispheres,  b,  b  is 
the  section  of  the 
cortical  substance ; 
a,  a,  of  the  medul- 
lary. The  section 
also  shows  the 
depth  of  the  sulci, 
between  the  convo- 
lutions. 


Fig.  7.— Ver- 
ticai  section  of 
the  brain,  show- 
ing its  three 
lobes  ;  a,  the  an- 
terior ;  &,  the 
middle  ;  and  c, 
the  posterior. 
At/is  the  broad 
band  of  white 
fibrous  matter, 
or  corpus  cal- 
losum, which 
unites  the  two 
halves  or  hemi- 
spheres,  of 
coiirsa  divided 
in  the  section ; 
at  d  is  the  cere- 
bellum, showing 
a  peculiar  ar- 
rangement, call- 
ed the  arbor  m- 
tce,  or  tree  of 
life  ;  at  9'  is  the 
beginning  of  the 
optic  nerve 
which  goes  to 
the  eye ;  I  is  the 
olfactory  nerve ; 
e  is  the  com- 
mencement of 
the  spinal  mar- 
row ;  m  is  the 
medulla  oblon- 
gata. 


Fig.  c. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


385 


Fig.  8,  A. 


Fia.  8,  A.— Norve-cell  from  anterior  horn  of  spinal  cord  (man),  magnified  150 
aiameters.  a,  cell-process  unbranched  passing  into  or  joining  an  axis  cylinder, 
the  othei  jVocesses  axe  branched ;  6,  pigment.  The  nucleus  and  nucleolus  are 
Yisibie. 


Fig.  8,  B. 


Fig.  8,  B. — Nerve-fibres,  a,  a,  the  axis-cylinder,  still  partially  surrounded  by 
the  medullary  sheath. 

Nerve-cells  vary  from  5^5  to  ^^^un  of  an  inch  ;  nerve-fibres  from  i^^-^  to  Yibm  ol 
an  inch,  iu  diameter. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


387 


Fio. 


Pig.  9.— Vertical  section  of  a  portion  of  the 
skin  of  the  finger,  made  across  three  of  the  curved 
ridges,  inaguitied  about  14  diameters  ;  6,  Section 
of  the  dry  part  of  the  epidermis,  d.  Section  of  the 
soft,  mucous,  or  Malpighian  rate  mucosum,  the 
chief  seat  of  the  coloring  matter  in  the  dark  races. 
e,  Section  of  the  cutis  or  derma,  gradually  be- 
coming more  areolar,  until  it  joins  the  subcutane- 
ous areolar  adipose  tissue,  c.  Elevations  of  the 
upper  compact  portion  of  the  cutis,  named  the 
papillae,  placed  in  rows  across  the  ridges  just 
mentioned,  g,  Coiled  tubuli  of  the  sudoriferous, 
or  sweat  glands,  lying  near  or  in  the  areolar  sub- 
cutaneous tissue.  A,  Long  duct  of  one  of  these 
glands,  forming  a  waved  line  through  the  cutis,  e, 
but  passing  spirally,  like  a  corkscrew,  through  the 
cuticle,  6,  and  then  opening  on  the  surface  of  a 
ridge.  /,  Small  masses  of  the  subcutaneous  fat. 
(KoUiker,) 


Fio. 


Fig.  10.—^,  a  larger  view  of  the  cutaneous  papillae,  showing  the  see  jfa^ary 
papillae  into  which  they  are  often  divided.  Magnified  about  (50  diameters.  B,  still 
larger  diagrammatic  view  of  two  simple  cutaneous  papillae,  with  their  epidennic 
covering.  1,  dry  scaly  part  of  epidermis.  2,  soft  part,  or  rete  mucosum,  con- 
sisting of  compressed  cells.  3,  cutis,  or  true  skin.  4,  papilla.  .5.  vascular  capil- 
lary loop  in  one  papilla.  6,  tactile  corpuscle,  with  two  nerve-fibrea  winding  up, 
and  becoming  lost  upon  it.    (KOlliker.) 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


389 


Fig.  11. 


Fig.  11.— Verlical  section  through  the  right  nasal  fossa,  showingthe  outer  eidl 
of  that  fossa,  with  a  part  of  the  base  of  the  cranium,  the  palate,  and  the  nose. 
1,  the  olfactory  tract  eixiing  anteriorly  in  the  olfactory  lobe,  or  bulb,  resting  on 
the  cribriform  plate  of  the  ethmoid  bone.  2,  superior  turbinated  portion  of  the 
ethmoid  bone,  corresponding  with  the  upper  part  of  the  olfactory  region,  and 
covered  with  the  network  of  the  branches  of  the  olfactory  nerves.  3,  middle  tur- 
binated portion  of  the  ethmoid  bone,  covered  with  a  few  olfactory  nerves,  and 
also  forming  part  of  the  olfactory  region.  4,  lower  turbinated  bone,  receiving 
only  branches  of  the  fifth  nerve,  5,  which  also  supplies  the  palate.  The  anterior 
region  of  the  nasal  fossa  receives  branches  also  derived  from  the  fifth  nerve. 
(Arnold.) 


Fig.  12. 


Fks.  13.— Taste-buds.    Magnified  450  timet*. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 
Fig.  13. 


391 


^    $  f  h 

Fig.  13. — The  Ear.— The  internal  portions  are  made  rather  larger  than  natural, 
in  order  that  the  construction  of  the  ear  may  be  clearer.  At  a  6  c  is  the  external 
ear  ;  at  <Z  is  the  entrance  to  the  tube  of  the  ear,/;  g  is  the  drum  of  the  ear  at  the 
end  of  this  tube,  called  the  membrane  of  the  tympanum  ;  ^  is  the  cavity  of  the 
tympanum,  the  chain  of  bones  which  it  contains  being  left  out,  so  that  the  plan 
of  the  apparatus  maybe  more  clear  to  you  ;  Tc  is  the  Eustachian  tube,  which  makes 
a  communication  between  the  back  of  the  throat  and  the  cavity  of  the  tympanum  ; 
w  is  a  part  of  the  winding  passages,  shaped  like  a  snail's  shell,  and  therefore  called 
the  cochlea  ;  at  m  are  three  other  winding  passages,  called,  from  their  form,  semi- 
circular canals ;  and  at  I  is  the  vestibule,  or  common  hall  of  entrance  to  all  theoe 
winding  passages  ;  o  is  the  auditory  nerve. 

Fig.  14. 
A  B 


lb  1  4:         * 

Fro.  14. — The  rods  of  Corti. — A,  a  pair  of  rods  separate(?.  from  the  rest ;  5,  a 

bit  of  the  basilar  membrane  with  several  rods  on  it,  showing  how  they  cover  in  the 

tunnel  of  Corti ;  i,  inner,  and  e,  outer  rods ;  &,  basilar  membrane.    Magnified  3^0 

times. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


393 


1.35. 


Fig.  15.— Eyeball  in  horizontal  section.— 9',  iris  ;  /,  pupil ;  h,  lens  ;  ^,  vitreous 
humor;  r,  retina  ;  on^  optic  nerve;  v,  fovea  centralis,  or  point  of  greatest  visual 
sensibility,  a,  6  and  c  are  three  points  where  images  are  formed.  When  v  is 
moved  to  obtain  clearer  vision  m.,  vb  acd  vg  afford  "local  signs,"  as  explained 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


395 


Fia.  16. 
Outer  surface. 


Inner  surface. 


Fig.  16 —A  section  through  the  retina  from  its  anterior  or  inner  surface,  1.  In 
contact  with  the  hyaloid  membrane,  to  its  outer,  10,  in  contact  with  the  choroid. 
1,  internal  limiting  membrane  ;  2,  nerve  fibre  layer  ;  3,  nerve-cell  Jayer  ;  4,  inuei 
molecular  layer  ;  5,  inner  granular  layer  ;  6,  outer  molecular  layer ;  7,  outer  gran- 
ular layer ;  8,  external  limiting  membrane  ;  n,  rod  and  cone  layer ;  10.  piginent- 
cell  layer.  (Schultze.)  The  rods  are  about  ^^  inch  in  length,  tne  cones  s,ra 
shorter.    The  diameter  of  the  rods  is  about  j^J-gg  inch. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 
Fig.  17. 


397 


Pro.  17. —Left  eyeball,  seen  from  above,  with  a  portion  of  the  bone  at  the  hot. 
torn  of  the  orbit,  ths  left  optic  nerve,  and  the  optic  commissure,  showing  some  of 
the  ocular  muscles.  1,  superior  rectus  muscle.  2,  external  rectus  muscle.  3,  in- 
ternal rectus  muscle.  4,  4,  superior  oblique  muscle,  passing  through  the  trochlea 
or  pulley,  by  which  the  direction  of  its  tendon  is  changed,  before  it  is  inserted 
into  the  eyeball,  t,  common  tendinous  origin  of  the  ocular  muscles,  surrounding 
the  optic  foramen,  at  the  bottom  of  the  orbit,  g,  the  lachrj'mal  gland,  r,  the 
transparent  coat  of  the  eyeball,  or  cornea.  The  rest  of  the  eyeball  is  covered  by 
the  sclerotic,  o  c,  the  optic  commissure,  w,  the  left  optic  nerve  passing  obliquely 
forwards,  in  the  axis  of  the  orbit,  to  reach  the  eyeball.  The  antero-posterior  axis 
of  the  eyeball,  when  at  rest,  is  not  oblique,  but  is  directed  forward,  the  axes  of 
the  two  eyeballs  being  then  parallel. 

Fig.  18. 


Pig.  18.— By  an  act  of  Will,  either  Aox  B  may  be  brought  into  the  foreground 
A  being  forward,  we  see  the  tops,  B  being  forward,  the  bottoms^  of  a  flight  of  steps 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 
Fig.  19. 


Fig.  19.— The  Muscles  of  Emo- 
tive Expression.— 1,  2,  3  lift  the 
skin  of  the  forehead  ;  4  closes  and 
opens  the  eye ;  .5,  pyramidal  mus- 
cle of  the  nose ;  7,  orhicularis  oris, 
used  in  closing  the  mouth  and  in 
pouting ;  8,  9,  levatores  labii ;  10, 
11,  zygomatics;  12,  quadratusraenti; 
13,  depressor  anguli  oris ;  15,  used 
in  chewing ;  17,  t9,  21,  muscles 
moving  the  ear ;  22,  corrug^tor  su- 
perciliL 


Pig.  20.  —  Muscles  of  the 
Mouth.— At  a  is  the  muscle 
which  draws  up  the  wing  of  the 
nose  and  the  lip ;  b  raises  the 
]ip ;  c  raises  the  corner  of  the 
mouth  ;  d  and  e  raise  the  comer 
of  the  mouth,  and  at  the  same 
time  carry  it  outward  ;  n  draws 
it  outward ;  m  draws  it  down- 
ward and  outward,  in  which  ac- 
tion it  is  assisted  by  a  broad  thin 
muscle,  0,  which,  situated  just 
under  the  skin,  comes  up  from 
the  neck  ;  I  draws  the  lower  lip 
downward  ;  and  i  is  the  circular 
muscle  which  closes  the  lips,  and 
thrusts  them  out  in  pouting.  At 
h  is  a  short  muscle  which  is  fast- 
ened to  the  sockets  of  the  teeth, 
and  has  its  fibres  ending  in  the 
skin  of  the  chin.     It  therefore 

draws  the  chin  up  when  it  contracts.  It  has  so  much  agency  in  the  expression  ol 
scorn  and  contempt  that  it  has  been  called  the  superbus.  It  is  by  the  action  ol 
this  muscle,  together  with  the  circular  muscle  i,  that  the  expression  termed  pout- 
ing is  produced. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


401 


Fig.  21. 


r~^ 


A.  Calmness. 


B.  Gravity. 


C.  Levity. 


Fig.  21. — A  Frencli  writer  on  art,  Humbert  de  Stiperville,  has  shown  in  a  very 
simple  manner  the  eftect  of  horizontal,  downward,  and  upward  lines  in  changing 
expression.  J.  represents  calmness,  endurance,  and  imperturbability;  i?,  gravity, 
sadness  and  pain  ;  C,  levity,  gayety  and  inconstancy.  The  expressions  of  the  face 
have  alsosuggested  comparisons  with  styles  of  architecture.  Horizontal,  regular, 
and  parallel  lines,  as  in  A,  express  the  calm  and  massive  endurance  of  Egyptian 
temples ;  oblique  descending  lines,  as  ia  ^,  express  sadness,  as  in  the  form  of  the 
pyramids,  which  were  used  for  tombs;  oblique  ascending  lines,  as  in  C,  express 
lightness  and  gayety,  as  in  the  Chinese  architecture',  which  seems  to  European  eyes 
almost  comical  and  provokes  tlie  smile  which  it  represents.  The  similitude  may 
1»e  extended  even  to  trees, those  with  drooping  branches  being  preferred  for  ceme- 
teries ;  as  the  weeping- willow  and  drooping  pines.  Trees  witli  horizontal  branches 
appear  calm  and  majestic.  Those  with  oblique  ascending  branches  seem  gay  and 
frisky,  the  comedians  of  vegetable  nature.  These  are,  no  doubt,  very  superficial 
associations,  but  even  the  superficial  may  be  suggestive  in  matters  of  mere 
appearance. 

Fig.  22. 


Fig.  22. — The  Motor  Mechanism. — 1.  The  humerus.  2.  The  mnscle  by  which 
the  joint  is  straightened.  3.  Its  insertion,  4.  The  muscle  by  which  the  elbow  is 
bout.  5.  Its  origin.  6.  Its  insertion.  When  the  muscle  4  contracts  by  an  amount 
represented  by  7,  8,  the  amount  of  motion  of  the  ball  wUl  be  represented  by  9, 11. 
There  is  a  loss  of  power  which  is  compensated  by  an  increase  of  motion. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  FIGURES. 


4:03 


F'iG.  23.— Language  Associations. 

—In  tliis  diagram 

/  =  a  Sensor  Impression  ; 

A  ~  the  Auditory  Centre ; 

T  =  the  Tactile  Centre  ; 

V  =  the  Visual  Centre  ; 

S  =  the  Speaking  Centre  ; 

W  -  the  Writing  Centre  ; 

E  =  the  ExpresLnou  thiough  the 
Motor  Centres  8  aad  W* 


The  numbers  all  refer  to  pages. 


Abbot,  Francis  E.,  quoted,  145. 

Abelard,  referred  to,  144. 

Abercrombie,  quoted,  333. 

Abstract  ideas,  defined,  139  ; 
method  of  developing,  150. 

Abstraction,  136. 

Absolute,  the,  defined,  181  ;  be- 
ing, 198. 

Acquisitiveness,  285, 

Action,  ideo-motor,  313  ;  reflex, 
313;  sensori-raotor,  313;  vol- 
untary and  involuntary  dis- 
tinguished, 311  ;  voluntary, 
treated,  339. 

Adaptation,  192. 

Adoration,  emotion  of,  270. 

Esthetic  emotions,  260. 

.Esthetics,  an  extension  of  Psy- 
chology, 269. 

Affirmations,  piimary,  6. 

Affections,  classification  of,  294; 
defined,  293;  polarity  of,  300; 
principal  types  of,  296;  rela- 
tion of  to  education,  301. 

After-sensation,  53. 

Agassiz,  referred  to,  111. 

Agnosticism,  defined,  16,  63;  re- 
ferred to,  178. 


Agraphia,  108,  335. 

Alarm,  emotion  of,  259. 

Allen,  Charles  Grant,  date,  225', 

quoted,  234. 
Altruism,  defined,  282. 
Amazement,  emotion  of,  259. 
Ambition,  286. 
Amnesia,    defined,    107;    causes 

of,  108. 
Anaesthetics,     effects    of    upon 

memory,  108. 
Analytical  judgments,   defined, 

154. 
Anatomy,  defined,  2. 
Anger,  296. 

Anthropomorphism,  190,  196. 
Anthropology,  defined,  3. 
Antipathy,  260. 
Anxiety,  259. 
Aphasia,  108,  335. 
Apperception,  61. 
Appetite,  acquired,  244  ;  control 

of,  246,  248;  definition  of,  240; 

inherited,    245;    relation  of  to 

education,  247. 
Approbativeness,  288. 
A  priori  knowledge,  defined,  174. 
Architecture,  reference  to,  125. 


406 


INDEX. 


Aristotle,  referred  to,  8,  69,  70, 
141,  142,  157,  165,  170,  184, 
189,  261. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  referred  to, 
123. 

Art,  aim  of,  123 ;  sphere  of,  263 ; 
teleological,  265. 

Assertive  judgments,  155. 

Association,  of  ideas,  69,  216; 
laws  of,  70,  72;  of  sensations, 
237;  through  feeling,  75. 

Associationism,  as  a  philosophy, 
174;  inadequacy  of,  77;  view 
of  concerning  universals,  143. 

Associations,  inseparable,  71. 

Attention,  defined,  20;  in  per- 
ception, 61;  as  a  form  of  vol- 
untary action,  349. 

Attribute,  or  quality  attributed 
to  a  substance  of  which  it  really 
forms  a  part,  175. 

Augustine,  St.,  reference  to,  70. 

Automatism,  in  new-born  ani- 
mals, 44;  law  of  increasing 
through  hal)it,  327. 

Avarice,  285. 

Aversion,  defined,  281. 

Awe,  emotion  of,  259,  266. 

Axioms,  in  mathematics,  166. 


Baconian   method,   referred   to, 

122. 
Bailey,  quoted,  270. 
Bain,  Alexander,   referred  to  or 

quoted,  9,  11,  63,  71,  73,  143, 

150,  225,   232,  241,   242,   243, 

261,  278,  350,  368. 
Bascom,    John,    referi'ed    to   or 

quoted,  19,  93,  95. 
Bastian,  H.  C,  quoted,  217. 


Beauty,  emotion  of,  263;  ideal, 
264;  sensuous,  236. 

Being,  concept  of,  174;  infinite, 
182 ;  intuition  of,  174  ;  two 
kinds  of,  175;  reality  of,  174; 
relation  of  in  perception,  58. 

Belief,  defined,  12;  nature  of, 
155. 

Bell,  Sir  Charles,  referred  to  or 
quoted,  224,  243,  253,  257. 

Benevolence,  295. 

Bentham,  Jeremy,  referred  to, 
239. 

Berkeley,  George,  Bishop  of 
Cloyne,  referred  to,  16,  50, 
176. 

Bernheim,  Dr.  H.,  French  phy- 
sician, referred  to,  332. 

Bernstein,  J.,  German  physiolo- 
gist, quoted,  61. 

Binocular  vision,  38. 

Biology,  defined,  2. 

Eiran,  Maine  de,  referred  to,  186. 

Bledsoe,  Albert  T.,  referred  to, 
364. 

Blushing,  258. 

Boethius,  referred  to,  143. 

Bowne,  Borden  P.,  referred  to  or 
quoted,  17, 179, 189, 282, 287,372. 

Braid,  James,  referred  to,  332. 

Brain,  as  servant  of  the  soul,  95; 
described,  26;  development  of, 
216;  relation  of  to  mind,  89. 

Bridgman,  Laura,  American 
deaf-mute,  referred  to,  23,  335. 

Brinton,  D.  G.,  American  eth- 
nologist, quoted,  270. 

Broca,  Paul,  referred  to,  217. 

Brown,  Thomas,  referred  to,  71, 
144,  145. 

Byron,  Lord,  referred  to,  56,  92. 


INDEX. 


407 


Cabanis,  J.  G.,  referred  to,  oe35. 

Calderwood,  Henry,  referred  to 
or  quoted,  5,  183,  202,  203. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  referred  to  or 
quoted,  94,  109,  329,  332,  349. 

Categories,  the,  enumerated,  156. 

Categorical  judgments,  155. 

Cause,  defined,  184;  different 
senses  of  the  word,  184;  dis- 
tinguished from  occasion,  188; 
final,  189;  relation  of  in  per- 
ception, 58;  resolution  of  into 
antecedent  and  consequent,  185 ; 
resolution  of  into  subjective  ex- 
perience, 186  ;  resolution  of 
into  a  relation  of  concepts,  186; 
resolution  of  into  an  impotency 
of  mind,  187;  resolution  of  the 
idea  of  into  an  intuition,  188; 
transcendent,  197 ;  ultimate,  198. 

Coensesthesia,  306. 

Cerebrum,  see  Brain. 

Cerebration,  328 ;  unconscious, 
94,  329,  331. 

Centres  in  the  brain,  27,  334. 

Chance,  defined,  191. 

Character,  emotional,  306;  as 
result  of  habit,  325 ;  law  of  des- 
tination of,  328;  moral,  372. 

Cheerfulness,  emotion  of,  255. 

Cheselden,  referred  to,  38,  46. 

Clairvoyance,  30. 

Clarke,  Edward  Hammond, 
quoted,  53,  84. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  referred  to,  108, 
261. 

Color,  in  perception,  38. 

Color-blindness,  39. 

Comical,  emotions  of  the,  261. 

Common-sense,  in  philosophy, 
173. 


Comparative  psychology,  3. 
Comparison,  in  conception,  136. 
Compayre,    French     writer    on 

education,  quoted,  278. 
Composite  photographs,  139. 
Comprehension,  in  logic,  defined, 

143. 
Comprehensive  judgments,  156. 
Compulsion,  distinguished  from 

volition,  356. 
Comte,  Auguste,  quoted,  6. 
Conception,   defined,    134,    135  ; 

process  of,   135;   use  of  word, 

135. 
Concepts,    defined,   135;    nature 

of,  138 ;  perfect  and  imperfect, 

146;  reality  of,  141. 
Conceptualism,  explained,  144. 
Condillac,   Etienne    Bonnot  de, 

referred  to,  219. 
Conditional  judgment,  156. 
Congreve,  William,  quoted,  301. 
Connotation,  143. 
Consciousness,  described,  14,  15. 
Constitutive     knowledge,     de^ 

fined,  13,  172. 
Contempt,  299. 
Contentment,  255. 
Contiguity,  law  of,  73. 
Contrast,  law  of,  73. 
Convergence,  defined,  195. 
Copula,  defined,  154. 
Correlation,  defined,  194. 
Correlation    and    Conservation 

of  forces,  law  of,  340. 
Corti,  organs  or  rods  of,  so  called 

after  their  Italian   discoverer, 

37.     See  also  figure  14. 
"Cram"  in  study,    referred   to, 

99. 
Curiosity,  284. 


408 


INDEX. 


Custom,  defined,  326. 
Ouvier,    French    naturalist,    re- 
ferred to,  or  quoted,  194,  217. 


Dalton,  John,  referred  to,  39. 

Daltonism,  or  color-blindness,  39. 

Daring,  259. 

Darwin,  Cliarles,  referred  to  or 
quoted,  122,  224,  258,  318. 

David,  French  sculptor,  referred 
to,  91. 

Deduction,  defined,  1G5;  forms 
of,  1G7. 

Dejection,  emotion  of,  256. 

DeibCBuf,  contemporary  French 
psycho-physicist,  referred  to, 
6l! 

Delirium,  31,  53. 

Deliberation,  treated,  347. 

Delitzsch,  F.,  German  theolo- 
gian, referred  to,  65. 

Delusion,  defined,  92. 

Democritus,  referred  to,  35,  77. 

Demonstration,  nature  of,  155. 

Demonstrative  judgments,  155. 

Denotation,  defined,  143. 

Denomination,  in  conception, 
136. 

Dependence,  emotion  of,  269. 

Depression,  emotion  of,  256. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas,  referred 
to,  84,  206,  210. 

Descartes,  Rene,  referred  to  or 
quoted,  15,  64,  92,  219. 

Design,  defined,  192. 

Desire,  defined,  280  ;  distin- 
guished from  volition,  356  ; 
kinds  of,  281;  relation  of  to 
education,  289. 

Determinism,  364. 


Development,  of  intellect,  213; 
of  sensibility,  305  ;  of  sense- 
perception,  44;  of  will,  366. 

Dewey,  John,  quoted  or  referred 
to,  75.  102,  106,  221,  306,  309. 

Diman,  .T.  Lewis,  quoted,  198. 

Dipsomania,  or  mania  for  drink- 
ing, 246. 

Discipline,  as  a  part  of  educa= 
tion,  3. 

Discursive  knowledge,  134. 

Dispositions,  306. 

Disrespect,  emotion  of,  268. 

Distrust,  emotion  of,  268. 

Doubt,  defined,  12. 

Drama,  the,  267. 

Dreams,  95. 

Dualism,  42,  63,  64,  178. 

Dualistic  Realism,  42,  63,  64, 17a 

Duration,  defined,  208;  memory 
of,  105. 


Edison,  Thomas  A.,  referred  to, 
121. 

Education,  aim  of,  3;  processes, 
of,  3.  For  relation  of  the  va- 
rious faculties  and  powers  to, 
see  each  of  these. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  the  Elder, 
distinguished  as  "President 
Edwards  "  from  his  son  of  the 
same  name,  who  also  wrote  on 
the  Will,  known  as  Dr.  Ed- 
wards, referred  to,  342. 

Ego,  the  Latin  word  for  I,  used 
to  designate  the  soul,  or  con- 
scious self, — the,  described,  9; 
development  of  the,  72 ;  Hume's 
view  of,  16;  J.  S.  Mill's  view 
of,  17. 


INDEX. 


409 


Egoism,  defined,  283. 

Egoistic  self-consciousness,  22. 

Elaborative  knowledge,  dc- 
liuc-1,  13,  134. 

Erne:  son,  R.  W.,  referred  to,  173. 

Emotion,  contagion  of,  260;  defi- 
nition of,250 ;  expression  of,  251, 
256 ;  kinds  of,  255 ;  modification 
of,  260  ;  production  of,  253  ; 
relation  of  to  education,  274. 

Empirical  theory  of  space- 
perception,  40. 

Empiricism,  defined,  173. 

Empiricus,  Sextiis,  referred  to, 
162. 

Emulation,  289. 

Ennui,  feelin-,-  of,  244. 

Enthymematic  reasoning,  167. 

Envy,  207. 

Equality,  defined,  180. 

Error,  82. 

Eternity,  defined,  208. 

Ethical  emotions,  268. 

Ethics,  relation  of  Psychology  to, 
268;  spliere  of,  126. 

Ethnological  Psychology,  3. 

Euler,  German  mathematician, 
referred  to.  111. 

Evolution,  a  formal,  not  a  caus- 
al, theory,  196. 

Expectation,  55,  126. 

Experiment,  defined,  163. 

Explanation,  rational,  nature  of, 
196. 

Expression,  habitual,  307. 

Extension,  in  logic,  of  a  concept, 
143;  defined,  201. 

Extensive  judgments,  156. 

Faculties,  defined,  8 ;  division 
of,  8. 


Faith,  299. 

Fame,  desire  of,  288. 

Fancy,  defined,  100  ;  distin- 
guished from  imagination,  116. 

Faraday,  referred  to,  122. 

Fear,  emotion  of,  259. 

Fechner,  G.  P.,  law  of,  60. 

Feeling,  appeal  to,  344 ;  de- 
scribed, 7,  12;  habitual,  306; 
relation  of  motives  to,  344; 
stages  of,  305;  treated,  221, 
See  also  Emotion,  Sensation 
and  Sensibility. 

Ferrier,  David,  referred  to,  27, 
335. 

Fichte,  J.  G.,  referred  to,  122, 
145. 

Fiction,  moral  qualities  of,  126. 

Final  cause,  conditions  implied 
in,  195;  explained,  189. 

First  cause,  198. 

Forces,  law  of  the  correlation 
and  conservation  of,  340. 

Fowler,  Thomas,  contemporary 
English  logician,  quoted,  163. 

Franklin,  B.,  referred  to,  122. 

Frobel,  F.  W.  A.,  referred  to,  65. 

Freedom  of  the  Will,  361. 

Frothingham,  0.  B.,  American 
writer,  referred  to,  173. 

FuUerton,  George  S.,  referred  to, 
183. 

Fulton,  Eobert,  referred  to,  121. 


Gall,  F.  J.,  referred  to,  103. 
Galton,  Francis,   referred  to  ol 

quoted,  85,  86,  139. 
Gassendi,  Peter,  referred  to,  79. 
General  notion,  defined,  139. 
General  term,  defined,  137. 


410 


INDEX. 


Generalization,  in  conception, 
136. 

Generic  images,  139. 

Genetic  theory  of  space-percep- 
tion, 49. 

Genius,  129. 

Ghost-seeing,  52. 

Gibbon,  the  historian,  rexerred 
to,  261. 

Goethe,  the  German  poet,  re- 
ferred to,  91,  92,  111,  122. 

Goltz,  contemporary  German  ex- 
perimenter in  vivisection,  quot- 
ed, 28. 

Graceful,  the,  263. 

Grandeur,  emotion  of,  266. 

Gratitude,  298. 

Grief,  emotion  of,  256. 

Grotius,  the  Dutch  jurist,  re- 
ferred to.  111. 

Guilt,  emotion  of,  268. 

Gurney,  Edmund,  contemporary 
writer,  332. 


Habit,  a  "second  nature,"  326; 
defined,  80,  325 ;  in  association 
of  ideas,  77;  in  education,  337; 
in  expression,  307;  in  feeling, 
306;  laws  of,  327;  origin  of, 
326. 

Haeckel,  Ernst,  quoted,  191. 

Hall,  G.  Stanley,  referred  to,  24, 
106,  332. 

Hallucination,  defined,  91. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  referred 
to  or  quoted,  8,  19,  26,  42,  70, 
90,  92,  97,  108,  111,  144,  182, 
183,  187,  188,  313. 

Harmony,  law  of,  236. 

Hartley,  David,  referred  to,  71. 


Hartmann,  Eduard  von,  referred 
to,  195. 

Hate,  296. 

Haughtiness,  257. 

Hausmann,    German    mineralo- 
I      gist,  referred  to,  217. 

Hazard,  Rowland  G.,  referred  to, 
364. 

Hearing,  described,  37;  knowl- 
edge obtained  by,  40. 

Hegel,  G.  W.  F.,  referred  to,  122, 
145,  148. 

Helmholtz,  H.  L.  F.,  referred  to, 
31,  38,  59,  122. 

Herbart,  J.  F.,  referred  to,  8,  60, 
273. 

Heredity,  of  intellect,  218;  of 
sensibility,  307;  of  will,  370. 

Hering,  contemporary  German 
psycho-physicist,  referred  to, 
61. 

Heroism,  emotion  of,  259. 

Hirsch,  contemporary  Swiss  psy- 
cho-physicist, referred  to,  59, 
60. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  referred  to,  70, 
142, 143,  261. 

Hodge,  Charles,  referred  to,  67. 

Holland,  Sir  Henry,  celebrated 
English  physician,  died  in  1873, 
referred  to,  108. 

Hope,  emotions  of,  259. 

Hopkins,  Mark,  quoted,  241 ;  re- 
ferred to,  280. 

Horror,  emotion  of,  259. 

Humboldt,  A.  von,  German  nat- 
uralist, referred  to.  111. 

Hume,    David,    referred    to    or 
quoted,  15,  16,  71,  77,  143,  145, 
162,  173,  176,  185,  186. 
Humility,  259. 


INDEX. 


411 


Humor,  201. 

Hunger,  241. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  referred  to,  116. 

Huxley,  Thomas  Henry,  quoted, 

40. 
Hypnotism,  3-31,  332. 
Hypnotization,  330. 
Hypostasis,  of  abstract  ideas,  147. 
Hypothesis,  defined,  164. 


Idealism,  Berkeley's,  16;  defined, 

63;  referred  to,  178. 
Ideal,  the,  116,  126,  263. 
Ideal  beauty,  distinguished  from 

sensuous,  236. 
Ideal  presence,  or  presence  of  an 

object  ideally  before  the  mind, 

128,  253. 
Idea.s,  abstract,  139;  association 

of,  69;  meaning  of  the  word, 

68,  142;  train  of,  69. 
Identity,  definition  of,  180. 
Ideo-motor  action,  313. 
Idiopathy,  of  the  nerves,  31. 
Imagination,    activity    of,    129; 

character  of,  118;  creative  en- 
ergies of,  115;  dangers  of,  128; 

defined,  114;  difference  of  and 

fancy,  116;  limitations  of,  119; 

relation  of  to  education,  130; 

use  of  word,  115;  uses  of,  127; 

varieties  of,  120. 
Imitativeness,  287. 
Immensity,  defined,  201. 
Immortality  of  the  soul,  372. 
Indifference,  in  feeling,  225. 
Indignation,  297. 
Induction,  assumptions   of,  164; 

defined,  162. 
Industrial  education,  67,  160. 


Infant,  psychical  condition  of  the, 

44,  214,  278. 
Infinity,  defined,  182. 
Ingratitude,  298. 
Inheritance.     See  Heredity. 
Inhibition,  314. 
Innervation,  314. 
Innocence,  emotion  of,  268. 
Insanity,  53,  92. 
Instinct,  defined,  318;  nature  and 

origin   of,   318;  in    man,  321; 

relation  of  to  education,  323. 
Instinctive  action,  318. 
Instruction,  defined,  3. 
Interest,  defined,  273. 
Intellect,  defined,  11;  described, 

8 ;  the  pre-condition  of  rational 

experience,  220. 
Intellectual  philosophy,  named, 

1. 
Intensity,  law  of  in  sensations, 

74. 
Intoxicants,  effects  of,  108,  245. 
Intra-cranial  speech,  334. 
Introspection,  or  looking  within, 

as  the  method  of  Psychology,  4. 
Intuition,   defined,  153,  174;    of 

being,  174;  of  cause,  188. 
Intuitional  theory  of  space-per- 
ception, 49. 
Ireland,   W.    W.,    contemporary 

English  specialist  in  abnormal 

psychology,  quoted,  329. 
Irving,  Washington,  quoted,  115. 


James,  William,  quoted,  254 ;  re- 

fei-rcd  to,  46. 
Janet,   Paul,    quoted,    192,    193, 

194. 
Jealousy,  297. 


412 


INDEX. 


Jevons,  W.  S.,  English  logician 
and  economist,  died  in  1882, 
rol'errod  to,  122. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  referred 
to,  92. 

Jonson^  Ben,  quoted,  100. 

Jouflfroy,  T.  S.,  referred  to,  190. 

Joy,  emotion  of,  255. 

Judgment,  defined,  134,  152 ;  cat- 
egories of,  156;  kinds  of,  154; 
origin  of  the  universal,  165; 
relation  of  to  education,  158; 
relation  of  to  other  processes, 
153. 


Kant,  Immanuel,  referred  to  cr 
quoted,  8,  144,  145,  146,  159, 
173,  176,  186,  187,  190,  194, 
204,  205,  209. 

Kindergarten  system^  65. 

Knowing,  stages  of,  214. 

Knowledge,  described,  7,  12. 
See  also  Intellect  and  the 
special  forms  of  Knowledge, 
Presentative,  Representative, 
Elaborative,  and  Constitutive. 


Ladd,  George  T.,  referred  to  or 
quoted,35,60, 62, 79, 100,307, 352. 

Language,  acquisition  of,  336; 
as  an  instrument  of  analysis, 
82 ;  as  an  instrument  of  reason- 
ing, 170;  associations  of,  334; 
involuntary  use  of,  334 ;  origin 
of  in  abstraction,  137;  power 
of  on  the  feelings,  258;  study 
of,  149;  the  language  of  ani- 
mals, 138. 

Laukj  Eva,  curious  case  of,  46. 


Lavater,    Swiss    piiysiognomist, 

307. 
Laws,  of  association  of  ideas,  69; 

of    feeling,    236  ;    of   thought, 

134,  175." 
Leibnitz,  G.  W.,  referred  to,  64, 

111,  219. 
Lessing,  G.  E.,  quoted,  223. 
Lewes,  George  Henry,  quoted  or 

referred  to,  27,  31,  87,  88,  223, 

318. 
Liberty,  of  the  will,  362. 
Linguistic  study,  149. 
Localization,  of  functions  in  the 

brain,  27;  of  sensations  in  the 

body,  49. 
Local  signs,  theory  of,  50. 
Locke,  John,  quoted  or  referred 

to,  16,  19,  50,  71,  77,  144,  173, 

175,  176,  219. 
Logic,  an  extension  of  Psychol- 
ogy,  269;  language  as  the  in- 
strument  of,   170;    the   sphere 

of,  147. 
Lotze,  Hermann,   quoted  or  re 

ferred  to,  31,  50,  51,  68,  118 

307, 
Love,  296. 

Lowliness,  emotion  of,  258. 
Ludicrous,  emotion  of  the,  261 
Luys,  J.,    contemporary    French 

physiologist,  quoted,  316. 


Malebranche,   Nicolas,    referred 

to,  64,  92. 
Malevolence,  295. 
Mansel,  II.  L,,  referred  to,  181. 
Marking-system,  the,  in  relation 

to  emulation,  292. 
Materialism,  defined,  63,  178. 


INDEX. 


413 


Matter,  attributes  of,  177;  pri- 
mary and  secondary  qualities 
of,  42. 

Maudsley,  Henry,  quoted  or  re- 
ferred to,  5,  90,  308. 

McCosh,  James,  quoted  or  re- 
ferred to,  64,  97,  225,  295. 

Meekness,  emotion  of,  258. 

Memory,  definition  of,  102;  im- 
portance of  to  greatness,  111; 
loss  of ,  107;  of  time,  104;  re- 
lation of  to  education.  111;  re- 
lation of  to  tlie  organism,  109 ; 
to  other  powers,  110  ;  volun- 
tary and  involuntary,  106. 

Mental,  as  applied  to  science,  1 ; 
use  of  tlie  word,  1. 

Metaphysics,  defined,  2;  based 
on  psychological  facts,  173 ;  the 
vice  of,  148. 

Method,  of  psychology,  4;  scien- 
tific, 146. 

Mill,  James,  referred  to,  16,  71. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  son  of  James 
Mill,  quoted  or  referred  to,  18, 
50,  64,  71,  143,  146,  165,  173, 
176,  185,  364. 

Milton,  John,  quoted,  117,  237. 

Mind,  use  of  the  word,  1. 

Mind-reading,  30. 

Mivart,  St.  George,  contemporary 
English  naturalist,  quoted,  262. 

Mnemonics,  113. 

Modality,  defined,  179. 

Modesty,  emotion  of,  258. 

Monboddo,  Lord,  an  eighteenth 
century  writer,  quoted,  100. 

Monism,  63,  178. 

Morell.  J.  D.,  contemporary  Eng- 
lish historian  of  philosophy, 
quoted,  270. 


Motives,  classification  of,  344, 
definition  of,  340;  distinguished 
from  motors,  340  ;  from  voli- 
tions, 357  ;  error  concerning, 
310 ;  relation  of  to  feeling,  344. 

Motor  activity,  control  of,  314; 
kinds  of,  313. 

Motor  mechanism,  the,  312  ; 
limitations  of,  316;  relation  of 
to  education,  317. 

Motor  Nerves,  313. 

Motors,  distinguished  from  mo- 
tives, 340. 

Mozart,  the  musician,  referred 
to,  104. 

Miiller,  F.  Max,  quoted  or  re- 
ferred to,  138,  170,  278,  335. 

Miiller,  J.,  German  physiologist, 
referred  to,  31,  49,  52. 

Munchausen,  referred  to,  120. 

Music,  referred  to,  37,  123,  124. 

Mysticism,  63. 

Name,  a,  nature  of,  137. 

Nativistic  theory  of  space-per- 
ception,  49. 

Nature,  uniformity  of,  164. 

Necessity,  theory  of,  362. 

Necrophore,  instinct  of  the,  320, 
322. 

Nervous  organism,  the,  de- 
scribed, 26. 

Nerves,  afferent  or  sensor,  37; 
efferent  or  motor,  27;  idiop- 
athy  of,  31. 

Nicolai,  case  of,  referred  to,  90. 

Niebuhr,  the  German  historian, 
referred  to,  111. 

Nominalism,  defined,  142. 

Noumenon,  145,  176. 

Number,  nature  of,  179. 


414 


INDEX. 


Obligation,  268. 

Observation,    as     subsidiary    to 

induction,  163. 
Occanij  William  of,  referred  to, 

144. 
Occasion,     distinguished     from 

cause,  188. 
Occasional  causes,  the  doctrine 

of,  64. 
Ontology,   defined,    3  ;    referred 

to,  173. 
Opinion,  nature  of,  155. 
Order,  defined,  193. 


Pain,  225,  226,  233. 

Painting,  referred  to,  123,  124. 

Particular  judgments,  156. 

Pascal,  the  French  writer,  re- 
ferred to,  111. 

Pathetic,  the,  emotions  of,  267. 

Pathology,  defined,  2. 

Pathos,  267. 

Pedagogics,  defined,  3. 

Perception,  acquired,  47  ;  de- 
fined, 24  ;  different  senses  of 
the  word,  24  ;  of  space,  40  ; 
original,  47;  proper,  25. 

Percepts,  defined,  57;  orga'^iza- 
tion  of,  58. 

Personal  equation,  in  perception, 
59. 

Personality,  197. 

Perez,  Bernard,  contemporary 
French  writer  on  the  psychol- 
ogy of  childhood,  referred  to, 
278. 

Pessimists,  283. 

Pestalozzi,  J.  11.,  referred  to, 
65. 

Phantasy,  defined,  83. 


Phenomena, — literally,  appef4,> 
ances,  plural  of  phenomenon,— 
145,  176. 

Phenomenalism, — the  doctrine 
that  nothing  exists  but  phe- 
nomena, or  appearances,  with- 
out substance, — 145,  176. 

Philosophy, — literally,  the  love 
of  wisdom, — distinguished  from 
science,  1 ;  the  schools  of,  173. 

Phrenology,  —  a  pseudo-science 
which  professes  to  localize 
mental  faculties  by  excres- 
cences on  the  cranium, — 27. 

Physiognomy, — the  science  of 
interpreting  character  by  facial 
expression,  — 307. 

Physiology,  defined,  2. 

Physiological  Psychology,  3. 

Physiological  time,  60. 

Picturesque,  the,  263. 

Pity,  299. 

Plato,  referred  to,  122,  141,  142, 
264. 

Play,  66,  248. 

Pleasure,  225,  226. 

Plot-interest,  267. 

Plotinus,  26,  157. 

Plurality,  defined,  179. 

Poetry,  referred  to,  123, 124,  266. 

Porphyry,  referred  to,  143. 

Porter,  Noah,  quoted  or  referred 
to,  21,  76,  321. 

Postulate,  defined,  172. 

Predicate,  defined,  154. 

Pre-established  harmony,  64. 

Prejudice,  273. 

Pre-perception,  55. 

Presentation,  in  conception,  135. 

Presentative  knowledge,  de* 
fined,  12;  two  kinds  of,  15. 


INDEX, 


415 


Pride,  emotion  of,  257. 

Primary  affirmations,  6. 

Primary  qualities,  42. 

Problematic  judgments,  15o. 

Progress,  relation  of  imagination 

;    to,  127. 

Propensities,  306. 

Prophecy,  127. 

Psychical,  —  pertaining  to  the 
soul, — use  of  the  word,  1. 

Psychology,  comparative,  3 ;  de- 
fined, 1 ;  ethnological,  3 ;  meth- 
od of,  4 ;  relation  of  to  educa- 
tion, 3;  sciences  related  to,  2; 
source  of  facts  in,  2 ;  sphere  of, 
2;  use  of  the  word,  1. 

Psycho-physics,  nature  of,  60; 
results  of,  61.  See  Weber's  Law. 

Pyrrho,  referred  to,  162. 

Pythagoras,  referred  to,  157. 

Qualities  of  matter,  42,  177. 

Quality,  defined,  179;  of  judg- 
ments, 156. 

Quantity,  defined,  178;  distin- 
guished from  quality,  343  ; 
kinds  of,  178;  of  judgments, 
156. 

Radestock,  Paul,  contemporary 
German  writer,  quoted,  79. 

Raphael,  the  artist,  referred  to, 
265. 

Rapture,  the  emotion  of,  255. 

Rationalism  (intiie  philosophical 
sense),  defined,  174. 

Realism  (of  concepts),  defined, 
141 ;  (in  philosophy  of  being) 
duaiistic,  42,  178;  scientific, 
178. 


Reason,  the,  as  explained  by 
Spencer,  219  ;  defined,  157; 
Greek  name  for,  138;  pre-con- 
dition of  rational  speech,  335. 

Reasoning,  assumptions  of,  162; 
definition  of,  134,  161;  induct- 
ive, 162;  instrument  of,  170; 
limits  of,  170  ;  relation  of  to 
education,  168;  validity  of,  161. 

Redintegration,  law  of,  70. 

Reid,  Thomas,  quoted  or  referred 
to,  8,  26,  64,  145,  188,  371. 

Reflection,  defined,  134. 

Reflective  self-consciousness, 
20,  22. 

Reflex  action,  313. 

Relation,  defined,  180. 

Relationism,  defined,  145  ;  re- 
ferred to,  176. 

Relativity  of  knowledge,  181. 

Religious  emotions,  269. 

Remorse,  emotion  of,  268. 

Repentance,  emotion  of,  268. 

Repetition,  law  of,  74. 

Representative  knowledge,  de- 
fined, 13,  m. 

Resemblance,  defined,  180;  law 
of,  72. 

Responsibility,  emotion  of,  268. 

Restlessness,  243. 

Revenge,  296. 

Reverence,  268. 

Reverie,  95,  129. 

Raymond,  Emil  Du-Bois,  quoted, 
41. 

Ribot,  Th.,  contemporary  French 
psychologist  and  director  of  the 
"Revue  Philosophique,"  quoted 
or  referred  to,  50,  61,  106,  108, 
246,  369. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul,  quoted,  303 


416 


INDEX. 


Ridiculous,  the,  emotion  oi,  261. 

Ritter,  the  Gernuin  geographer, 
referred  to,  111. 

Robertson,  George  Groom,  editor 
of  "  Mind,"  quoted,  28. 

Romanes,  George  J.^  quoted,  319. 

Roscellinus,  referred  to,  143. 

Rosenthal,  I.,  contemporary  Ger- 
man physiologist,  quoted,  59, 
61. 

Ruskin,  -John,  quoted,  116. 


Soaliger,  Joseph  J.,  called  the 
Elder,  referred  to,  111. 

Schelling,  German  philosopher, 
referred  to,  122. 

Schleiermacher,  F.  E.  D.,  re- 
ferred to,  270. 

Scientific  knowledge,  character 
of,  148. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  referred  to,  56, 
107. 

Scotus  Erigena,  referred  to,  143. 

Sculpture,  referred  to,  123,  124. 

Secondary  qualities,  of  matter, 
42. 

Self,  permanence  of,  105,  207. 
See  also  Soul. 

Self-complacency,  257. 

Self-confidence,  259. 

Self-consciousness,  abnormal,  21 ; 
defined,  14;  egoistic,  22;  eth- 
ical, 21;  hypochondriacal,  22; 
Hume  on,  15;  Mill  on,  17; 
philosophical,  21 ;  precocious, 
21 ;  reflective,  20 ;  relation  of  to 
education,  22;  Spencer  on,  18; 
spontaneous,  19. 

Self-indulgence,  283. 

Self-knowledge,  capacity  for,  7. 


Self-preservation,  282. 

Self-respect,  268. 

Sensation,  association  in,  237; 
definition  of,  228;  laws  of,  236: 
localization  of,  49;  proper,  25; 
range  of,  235;  relation  of  to 
education,  238. 

Sensationalism, — in  philosophy, 
the  theory  of  knowledge  that 
derives  everything  from  sensa- 
tion,—173. 

Senses,  classification  of,  32 ;  com- 
pleteness of,  33;  defined,  32; 
development  of,  44;  muscular 
sense,  32;  organic,  32;  special, 
33.  See  also  each  of  the  special 
senses. 

Sense-interpretation,  42,  44. 

Sense-organ,  defined,  32. 

Sense-perception,    defined,    24 
development    of,    44;  example 
of,  25;  illusions  of,  51. 

Sensibility,  defined,  221  ;  de- 
scribed, 8  ;  development  of, 
304;  difficulty  of  treating,  222. 

Sensori-motor  action,  313. 

Sensory  circles,  34,  35. 

Sentiments,  defined  and  treated, 
250. 

Sexton-bee,  instincts  of  the,  320, 
322. 

Sexual  passion,  244. 

Shakespeare,  quoted,  115,  117, 
124,  273. 

Shame,  emotion  of,  268. 

Shelley,  referred  to,  117. 

Sight,  described,  37;  knowledge 
obtained  by,  40. 

Simonides,  referred  to,  113. 

Simple  sentience,  conditions  of, 
231 ;  treated,  228, 


INDEX. 


417 


Skepticism,  philosophical,  102. 

Sleep,  24:}. 

Smell,  described,  35;  dcvelop- 
nieiit  of,  30;  kno^vledge  ob- 
tained by,  39. 

Smyth,  Newman,  contemporary 
American  religious  writer,  270. 

Sociability,  280. 

Socrates,  referred  to,  142. 

Solicitation,  definition  of,  830. 

Somnambulism,  332. 

Sophists,  the,  referred  to,  143. 

Sorrow,  emotion  of,  250. 

Soul,  —  equiva^'cnt  to  conscious 
self, — immortality  of,  372;  re- 
lation of  to  body,  02 ;  unity  of, 
9,  171,  307;  use  of  the  word,  1. 

Space,  defined,  201 ;  how  related 
to  time,  210;  objectivity  of, 
204;  real  and  ideal,  205;  treat- 
ed, 200. 

Specific  energy  of  the  nerves, 
31. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  quoted  or  re- 
ferred to,  9,  18,  50,  04,  71,  143, 
100,  181,  183,  191,  201,  205, 
210,  218,  219,  225,  201,  2G2, 
278,  318,  304. 

Spirit,  attributes  of,  177;  use  of 
the  word,  05. 

Spiritism, — to  be  distinguished 
from  "  Spiritualism,"  which  last 
is  a  term  often  used  to  designate 
the  opposite  of  "Materialism," 
— referred  to,  30. 

Stephenson,  George,  English  en- 
gineer, referred  to,  121. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  referred  to  or 
quoted,  79,  100. 

Stoics,  the,  referred  to,  157. 

Strong,  Augustus  II.,  contempo- 


rary American  theological  writ- 
er, referred  to,  07. 

Sulyect,  of  a  proposition,  154. 

Subjective, — pertaining  to  the 
conscious  subject;  used  in  con- 
trast to  objective,  pertaining  to 
the  object. 

Subjectivism,  in  philosophy,  144. 

Sublime,  emotions  of  the,  205; 
the  morally,  200. 

Substance, — literally,  that  which 
stands  under  the  qualities  at- 
tributed to  a  thing  and  consti- 
tutes its  reality, — 175. 

Succession,  memory  of,  105. 

Suffocation,  242. 

Suggestion,  09,  71. 

Sully,  James,  referred  to  or  quot- 
ed, 11,  52,  92,  102,  220,  298. 

Surprise,  emotion  of,  259. 

Suspicion,  298. 

Sympathy,  emotion  of,  200. 

Synthetic  judgment,  154. 

System,  nature  of  a,  108. 

Systems  of  philosophy,  174. 

Systematization,  defined  and  ex- 
plained, 108. 

Taine,  H.  A.,  referred  to,  104. 

Talent,  129. 

Tappan,     Henry    P.,    x\merican 

writer  on  the  Will,  died  in  1881, 

referred  to,  304. 
Taste,  described,  30;  knowledge 

obtained  by,  40. 
Teleological  terms  distinguished, 

191. 
Teleology,  defined,  190.    . 
Temperature,  sensation  of,  34. 
Tennyson,  Lord  Alfred,  quoted, 

214. 


4J8 


INDEX. 


Terror,  emotion  of,  259. 

Tertium  quid, — third  something, 
—04. 

Testimony,  difTiculty  of  obtain- 
ing, 57. 

Thirst,  342. 

Thought,  defined,  134;  laws  of, 
134,  175;  transference  of  at  a 
distance,  30;  ultimate  in  ex- 
planation, 197.  See  also  Reas- 
oning. 

Threshold  of  consciousness, 
meaning  of,  60. 

Tiedemann,  Thierri,  a  German 
observer  of  infantile  develop- 
ment, referred  to,  45. 

Tiedemann,  a  German  anatomist 
of  small  brain  dimensions,  re- 
ferred to,  217. 

Time,  defined,  208;  objectivity 
of,  209;  real  and  ideal,  209; 
treated,  107. 

Touch,  described,  83;  knowledge 
obtained  by,  39. 

Transcendentalism,  in  philoso- 
phy, 173. 

Transference  of  thought,  at  a 
distance,  30. 

Trichotomy, — or  threefold  divis- 
ion of  the  soul,  65. 

Trust,  298. 

Truth,  defined,  82;  embodied  in 
a  proposition,  153;  harmony  of 
all,  168. 

Tyndall,  John,  quoted,  40,  122, 
177. 


Ulrici,  Hermann,  quoted,  9. 
Unconscious  cerebration,  92,  94, 


Understanding,  as  employed  ^^ 

Kant,  144. 
Universals,  defined,  139. 
Universal  judgments,  156. 
Uniformity  of  nature,  164. 
Unity,  defined,  179;  of  the  soul, 

9,  213,  304. 
Upham,   Thomas    C,    American 

philosophical  writer,    died    in 

1872,  referred  to,  364. 


Vanity,  emotion,  257. 

Variety,  in  unity,  236 ;  law  of,  236 

Velocity,  of  light,  nerve-vibra- 
tion, and  sound,  59. 

Verification,  as  subsidiary  to  in= 
duction,  164. 

Vernet,  Horace,  artist,  referred 
to,  104. 

Vibration,  as  a  cause  of  sensa- 
tion, 29. 

Vision  of  all  things  in  God,  64. 

Visualization,  85. 

Volition,  described,  7, 12 ;  treated, 
350. 

Voluntary  action,  339. 


Ward,  James,  contemporary  Eng« 

lish  psychologist,  quoted,  201. 
Warner,  Francis,    contemporary 

English  writer  on   expression, 

quoted,  257. 
Wayland,  Francis,  quoted,  284. 
Weariness,  243. 
Weber,   E.  H.,  referred  to,  34; 

law  of,  60. 
Webster,  Daniel,  referred  to,  217. 
Whately,     Archbishop,      recent 

writer  on  logic,  referred  to,  170. 


INDEX. 


419 


Whedon,  D.  D.,  writer  on  the 
Will,  died  in  1885,  referred  to, 
364. 

Whipple,  E.  P.,  recent  American 
writer,  referred  to,  261, 

Will,  definition  of,  309 ;  described, 
8;  development  of,  366;  in- 
heritance of,  870;  in  relation 
to  desires,  289;  study  of  psy- 
chological, 310;  treated,  309. 

Wit,  emotion  of,  261. 

Wittich,  von,  contemporary  Ger- 
man psycho-physicist,  referred 
to,  59. 


Wonder,  emotion  of,  259. 
Wordsworth,  quoted,  100,  115. 
Wundt,  VV.,  referred  to  or  quoted^ 
50,  51,  61,  368,  370. 


Young  -  Helmholtz     theory     of 

colors,  38. 
Young,  Thomas,  referred  to,  38. 


Zanotti,    F.    M.,     referred    to 


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